


Gravity Rises: Back to the Bunker [Episode Two]

by BrightnessWings19



Series: Gravity Rises Season Two [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gravity Rises, Episode Two, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 02, Sorophora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightnessWings19/pseuds/BrightnessWings19
Summary: Ford takes Mabel and Dipper back down to his bunker in order to search for the other two Journals. Little do they know that they're being followed by a certain Northwest...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the official story for the Gravity Rises AU.
> 
> Work originally posted on Wattpad.
> 
> When commenting on this work, please do not swear.

It was snowing by the time Gideon Northwest left the town of Gravity Rises to return to his mansion. Lazy, fat flakes drifted down from the white sky onto the white ground. Gideon looked up at the sky, whose blanket of clouds mirrored the blankets of snow, and wondered if the snowflakes’ new home was any better than the one they had left. And then he stepped on them.

To the world, he looked unconcerned and even relaxed, strolling down the winding path that led to his home. But he was far from relaxed in his mind. Sluggish thoughts tried in vain to analyze his experiences from the past night. He’d been up all night, searching the town of Gravity Rises, breaking into buildings and sneaking into homes, combing the town for someone who, just weeks ago, had been the easiest person in the town to find.

The chill of the morning snuck through the threads in his gloves. Gideon rubbed his fingers together and sighed.

_I’m trying to find you, Pacifica. I can only hope you want to be found._

There was a part of him that refused to believe she had left on her own will. Pacifica Pleasure was a variable in any equation, and a dangerous one at that. But she and Gideon were friends, however loosely they regarded the term. They had worked together, solved mysteries together, and even switched bodies once. Gideon tried not to let himself become attached to anyone, but the thought of Pacifica disappearing without so much as a goodbye still hurt him. But then, her mind had been so broken. . .

No. She had to have some level of loyalty towards him. He’d much rather believe someone took her.

And so he searched the town.

But now it was morning, and he had to leave the unsuspecting people whose property he had been trespassing on just hours before. The town was waking up, but Gideon felt the fatigue settling on his mind and wished for sleep. 

He reached the tall, imposing gate that guarded the grounds of the Northwest Manor. He studied the gate for a moment, debating whether he should just flare up his amulet and leap over the gilded wood. He could not see anyone around to witness it.

His eyes trailed above the gate to the spires of the Northwest Manor. No, there was a witness. His father would see.

Gideon stepped up to the side of the gate and pressed the button to alert the help he was home. The little camera above the button sprang to life, looking Gideon up and down. “Ah, Master Northwest,” said a tinny voice through the speaker. “Welcome home.”

The gate swung open.

Gideon took his time walking through the courtyard, gazing at the frozen fountains and delicate ice sculptures. The cold of the morning rested on the outside of his layers of clothing; there was no wind,  making the chilly air bearable. Still, he could not delay going inside forever. He soon found himself on the steps of the manor.

A manservant opened the door for him and gave a little bow. Gideon walked past, suppressing a yawn, hoping he could make it up to his room unscathed.

He shouldn’t have hoped. His father was standing at the base of the stairs, easily visible from the front door.

“Father,” Gideon said cordially.

“Gideon,” Gaston Northwest replied. “You have been gone for some time.”

 The words reminded Gideon just how tired he was. “Yes, I was doing some research.”

In times past, this would’ve been an acceptable excuse. Gideon was encouraged in his aloof, curious tendencies when it meant he was discovering new things about the amulet, the Order, or the town of Gravity Rises. But now, he knew his father suspected what he was really doing.

“What kind of research?” Gaston asked in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

Gideon closed his eyes. Lying would only make things worse. He was already so tired. . . He forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. “I was looking for Pacifica.”

Gaston did not outwardly react, save for a curt nod. “You must cease this vain searching. You are neglecting your other duties, even at the Order.”

Gideon mentally winced. He knew the news of his missing a memory session would reach his father.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised. “But I need to find her, Father.”

“Why?” Gaston asked. “Because you’re _worried_ about her?”

That was exactly it. But it was not a valid excuse, not in the Northwest family. “She disappeared without a trace, her parents too, after losing her mind. She’s an unpredictable variable. We need to find her and keep tabs on her lest she do something that causes a problem for us.”

Gaston gazed down at him.

“I also have been researching the amulets,” Gideon continued. “I need to be able to study Pacifica to find out if I’m in danger of the same effects, should I lose my amulet.”

“You’ve told me yourself that the Pleasure girl was not careful with her powers,” Gaston said. “I don’t see you losing your wits without them. We also both know neither of these reasons are the true one behind you spending so much time trying to find Pacifica.”

Gideon braced himself to lose the argument.

“However.”

Gideon looked up.

“They are still good reasons,” Gaston said, “and I would like to let you use your free time as you see fit. You may continue your search, so long as it does not get in the way of your other responsibilities.”

Gideon held in a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Father.”

“Or in the way of your sleep,” Gaston continued with a frown. “You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Gideon shook his head.

Gaston’s eyes narrowed. “I have half a mind to make you come recite to me the Northwest family tree to teach you not to come home tired.” He sighed. “Go and get some sleep.”

Gideon hurried up the stairs as fast as he could without losing his composure. “Thank you, Father,” he repeated. He turned the corner, glanced around to make sure he was alone, and ran down the hall to his room.

He flopped on his bed without bothering to change or pull back the covers. He barely had time to be relieved about his father giving him permission to continue his search. His eyes closed, and his mind shut down, one final thought ambling across his brain before he lost consciousness.

_I’m going to find you, Pacifica._


	2. Chapter 2

Mabel Pines curled up comfortably on the couch in the Mystery Museum, her home for the winter. Her legs were tucked underneath her and her sketchbook was braced on her arm, her hand moving across the page in short, dark strokes. The current scene she was drawing depicted her twin brother, Dipper, dancing at the party they’d held last week. His eyes were closed and his mouth smiling as he weaved between the silhouettes of other party guests. Mabel loved drawing her brother; he was so expressive that there was always something new to capture.

Beneath her sketchbook on her lap sat a large maroon book, its cover gilded with a golden six-fingered hand. She liked the feeling of having Journal 3 out in the open, where all could see it, instead of hiding it. Ever since her great uncle Stanford had found out she had it and enlisted her help in finding the others, it felt more like a connection to him than something driving them apart.

The smell of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen, where Melody Ramirez, the housekeeper, made breakfast. Mabel shifted in her chair and let out a contented sigh. Yes, this morning was nice and peaceful.

“Mabel? Mabel, have you seen my Journal?”

Stanford Pines’ voice boomed through the house without him raising it in pitch or even volume. In her first while here, Mabel mostly heard Ford speaking in normal tones or occasionally yelling at someone (usually her). Now, now that they were a team, now that he had hope for the future, he more often used a voice that wasn’t loud but still carried to every corner of the room. Mabel liked it.

He turned the corner into the entry way and saw Mabel on the couch and the Journal in her lap. “I figured you would have it,” he said. “Good morning.”

Mabel smiled. “Good morning, Grunkle Ford. Do you need the Journal?”

“Not quite yet. Bring it to the table for breakfast, alright?”

“Okay.”

The exchange was short and unimportant, but Mabel’s heart felt light afterward. Before, nearly every conversation with Ford had been terse or otherwise carried an uncomfortable atmosphere that permeated the room. Now she felt none of that. Now she could smile at him, and he would. . . well, not quite smile back, but at least look like he didn’t wish she’d stop talking.

A sudden pounding on the stairs shook both the walls of the Museum and Mabel’s thoughts of Ford. Her twin brother Dipper, whose footsteps always preceded him, dashed down the stairs and into the room, his shoelaces flapping wildly around his neon green tennis shoes. “Morning!” he said cheerfully to Mabel and Ford. He stopped at the base of the stairs, then frowned, sniffing the air. “Is something burning?”

Mabel hadn’t noticed anything—Dipper had the better sense of smell—but now that he mentioned it, there was a smoky scent that didn’t fit with the bacon grease smell coming from the kitchen.

Ford reached up and patted at his cheek. “That’s nothing.”

At first Mabel thought she imagined it—she wouldn’t have noticed it without Ford putting his hand up to stop it. But that couldn’t have actually been _smoke_ coming up from Ford’s cheek, could it? “Grunkle Ford,” she said, “was your _face_ on fire?”

 “It’s faster than shaving,” Ford said, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Woah,” Dipper breathed. “Can I do that? I have facial hair too, you know.”

“What, no you don’t,” Mabel said.

“Do so!” Dipper retorted. “I found some on my chin, just the other day!”

“I’m sure you’re growing into a fine young man,” Ford said, “but nobody but me is allowed to light their face on fire.”

“Aww.”

A head poked out from around the corner between the kitchen and the entry way. “What’s this about being on fire?” Melody asked. “My food’s not burning, no worries. In fact, it’s all ready to go if y’all wanna come in here.”

Mabel closed her sketchbook and stood up, following Ford and Dipper into the kitchen. At the last moment, she remembered what Ford said about the Journal, and hurried back to get it. When they sat down at the table, she kept the Journal in her lap—she’d never forgive herself if she got bacon grease or butter on its cover.

“You all look nice and cheerful this morning,” Melody said as she brought the food to the table. Mabel could tell she felt the release in tension too.

“I made a breakthrough,” Ford replied. “About where to find the other Journals.”

Mabel dropped her fork.

It clattered onto her plate in the otherwise silent room. Mabel leaned over the table, half-rising from her chair. “You did? What is it? Where are they?”

“Did you remember something?” Melody asked.

“Sort of,” Ford said. “Mabel, may I see the Journal?”

Mabel slid it over to him and watched with wide eyes as he flipped through it. “Here,” he said, laying it open on the table.

The page he had opened to showed a diagram of his bunker, the one he and the twins had stayed in after Pacifica had stolen the Museum. At the top of the page were four rectangles, all connected by lines, with the tree that hid the bunker on the far right. The rest of the page detailed two rooms: the one they had stayed in and a security room, which Ford had never showed them (and Mabel hadn’t dared ask). The page afterwards had been torn out.

“You two have been to my bunker,” Ford said. “But as you can see here, there are more rooms than the one you saw.”

“You think the Journals are in one of those rooms?” Dipper asked, using a piece of bacon to point to the diagram at the top of the page. Ford moved the Journal out of the way to save it from the grease.

“It’s a possibility,” Ford said. “The problem is, I don’t remember what’s in the rooms after the security room. Whenever I think about it, I just feel this vague sense of danger.” His fingers brushed over the torn edges of the missing pages, and he sighed in frustration. “I don’t know where these pages have gone, but without them, my memory is incomplete.”

“I’m sure we can handle it,” Dipper said. “We’ve gone up against magical creatures and all that before.”

“How would you get past the security room?” Ford asked. He pointed to the next visible page after the missing ones. It showed a diagram of hexagons with foreign symbols on them. “This page supposedly tells us the combination to get past the room, but I took an extra measure to conceal it and I can’t remember what it is.”

Mabel could hear the frustration lacing his voice. He’d obviously gone over all this himself before telling him about it. She couldn’t even imagine the anger he must have felt towards his unreliable memory.

“Once we get down there,” she said carefully, “do you think you’ll remember? You said you remembered a lot after rereading the Journal.”

Ford sighed. “Only what the Journal told me. And as you know, it’s missing information.”

She did know. She’d stared at the remnants of the missing pages and hungered for the knowledge of what was on them. It seemed Ford was now doing the same.

“I think Mabel’s right,” Dipper said. “I think you’ll remember if we go to the bunker. And the Journals could be down there!”

“Your assistant built the bunker, right?” Mabel asked. “If he stole the Journals, maybe he hid them down there.”

Ford looked reluctant. “I wouldn’t have told you at all if I wasn’t planning on letting you come,” he said slowly, “but I am still worried. We’d essentially be going in blind. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Mabel didn’t want to get hurt either. But she did want to find the Journals. “We’ve gotta try.”

“We’ll be fine,” Dipper said cheerfully. “You’ll protect us.”

Ford didn’t seem reassured. There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t like relying on my instincts without solid facts,” Ford began, “but it’s a skill I’ve had to learn. There’s something dangerous down in that bunker, something I can’t remember. If we go down there without the necessary preparation, we could get seriously hurt. I’m not going to ask you to come if you don’t want to, but if I do bring you two along, I need to know that you’ll follow my instructions and not do anything that could put you at risk.”

Mabel felt her stomach turn over. The reality of what Ford was saying started to feel, well, real. If they went back to the bunker to look for the Journals, they’d be walking into what could be a death trap.

“Do we have any other leads?” she asked quietly. “Any other options on where to look?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll go look. And we’ll prepare as best we can.”

“Yeah!” Dipper said.

“And we’ll do what you say,” Mabel added.

Dipper’s face fell a little.

Melody laughed, a pleasant sound that startled Mabel. She’d nearly forgotten Melody was there, quietly eating her breakfast on the opposite side of the table from Ford. “Don’t worry, Dip, whatever instructions Ford gives won’t take the adventure out of it all.”

“Are you coming, Melody?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she replied. “I don’t think I’ve fully recovered from getting bludgeoned on the head by the Pleasure girl last week. You three go.”

Ford smiled. “I almost considered just going alone, but I know I made a promise. And. . . I think I’d rather have you two with me.”

Mabel found herself unable to breathe for a moment. He wanted her along. She wasn’t just someone he had to bring. He wanted her to come.

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning,” Ford continued. “I’ll need some help routing through my old gear to see what we need.”

“Ooh! Will it be like an antique museum?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Mabel realized what she was implying. She flushed red. “I-I mean—”

“It’s fine,” Ford said with a laugh. “It will be, in a way. Some of this stuff I haven’t touched for decades.”

“I’ll help,” said Dipper. “I bet we’ll find a ton of cool stuff. I already found this black light pen under the couch the other day, look!” He pulled out a pen and clicked a button up at the top, shining a black light beam onto his neon shoes. They glowed an unearthly green.

A strange look came onto Ford’s face.

“Grunkle Ford? You okay?” Mabel asked.

It took a second for him to answer. “I. . .” He shook his head. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“If you two don’t start eating, your breakfast will get cold,” Melody said.

Mabel and Ford exchanged looks. Neither of them had even filled their plates.

“Food first,” Ford said. “Then preparations.”

“Then tomorrow we’re off to find _adventure_!” Dipper shouted in a dramatic voice.

Ford laughed again. Mabel liked it when he laughed.

“Tomorrow we’re off on adventure,” he agreed.

Mabel could hardly wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Gideon crept down the rickety wooden staircase, his fingers rubbing his amulet as it cast a blue glow around the room. Each stair creaked as Gideon put his weight on it. His heart pounded. What if he got caught?

He stepped down another stair.

There was a cracking sound, and the wooden step gave way. Gideon’s feet suddenly dangled over nothing.

He had time only for a thrill of panic to rush through his body before his amulet went out and he plunged into the darkness.

He tried not to scream, but it was impossible. His mind raced in terror as he fell and fell—no matter what he did, his amulet refused to activate and stop his fall.

“ **What** a **predicament** you’re in, **Lone Wolf**!”

A yellow glow sprang to life next to him, and Gideon’s eyes jumped to it, hungry for the light.

And then he figured it out.

“Cipher,” he said. “This is a dream.”

Bill Cipher tipped his hat to Gideon. “So **how** are you going to get **out** of this?”

Gideon glared at him. They both knew that Gideon could easily become aware in his dreams, but that he never was good at controlling them.

“You can’t hurt me, Cipher,” Gideon said. “I don’t feel pain in my dreams. So just stop this fall.”

“ **Or** ,” Bill replied, “we can **talk** while you fall **forever**.” He folded his stick-thin legs underneath him as he fell alongside Gideon.

“What do you want, Bill?” Gideon folded his arms. If he was going to fall forever, fine. Unless Bill thought it would be funny to abruptly end the fall at any moment, which wasn’t unlikely.

“I have a **business** opportunity for you.”

“No thanks.”

“You **haven’t** even **heard** what it **is** yet.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Cipher,” Gideon growled. “You’re behind Pacifica’s disappearance, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think **that**?”

Gideon just gave him a look.

“My **proposition** has **your** best interests in **mind** ,” Bill said. “It involves the **Journals**.”

Gideon would be lying if he said this didn’t catch his attention. But he also noticed how Bill avoided the topic of Pacifica. “You wouldn’t be visiting me in the first place if you didn’t want to use me to reach your goals.” He knew how this worked.

“I’m **fairly** certain our goals **line up** at this point,” Bill replied. “ **You** want the Journals. **I** want anyone **but** the **Pines** to have the Journals. **Guess** who has the **Journals**?”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “They have the first one? I knew it!”

“ **Not** quite **yet** ,” Bill said. “But they’re **looking** for it. And if they **find** it, they’ll come after **you** for **yours**. But **I** know how you can **force** them out of the **game**.”

Gideon hated that he was interested. He hated that Bill knew he was interested. “I’m not promising anything,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”

“ **Excellent** ,” Bill said.

With a sudden _crash_ , Gideon landed on a concrete floor.

He got to his feet immediately. No pain, no shaky legs. Bill didn’t truly have power over him, even if he was the one controlling the dream.

“The **Pines** are about to head out on an **expedition** ,” Bill began, “to Stanford’s **bunker**.”

“The one they hid in while Pacifica had the Museum?”

“ **That’s** the **one**. **Stanford** thinks the first **Journal** might be **down** there. Luckily for **you** , they’ll have the **third** Journal **with** them, to **navigate**.”

“You want me to go find the first Journal first, then steal the third,” Gideon said. “That does sound like my best interests. So what’s the catch?”

“No **catch** ,” Bill said. “Like I **said** , our **goals** are **aligned**. There **is** a **part two** , however.”

“Same thing.”

“ **Sure**. Stanford **built** his bunker with **quite** a few **security measures**. The **third** Journal should have **instructions** on how to **seal** the bunker, and with your **amulet** you could make it **locked** from the **outside**. After you **get** what you **came** for, I need you to **trap** the Pines **inside**.”

But Gideon couldn’t be fooled by Bill’s vague wording. “I’m not killing anyone, Cipher, Journals on the line or no!”

“Who said **anything** about **killing**? There’s **plenty** of food down there. **How** do you think they **survived** those three days **hiding** from **Pacifica**? And they’ll **probably** find their way out **someday** , but they’ll be **out** of the **way** long enough that they won’t do any **harm**.”

“Out of the way for what?” Gideon demanded.

“For my **plans** ,” Bill replied. “The ones that will get me **out** of this **pathetic** dimension.”

Gideon stared at him for a long while, thinking it over.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly. “Our goals _are_ in alignment.”

He had a feeling Bill was smiling, despite not having a mouth. “ **Attaboy**.”

“Fine,” Gideon said. “I’ll do what I can. But no promises, and this isn’t a deal.”

“ **Sure** ,” Bill replied. “Just a **favor** for a **friend**.”

“It’s not a favor, and you’re not my friend. When is this trip to the bunker happening?”

“ **Tomorrow** **morning**.”

“Great. In that case, I’d better get a good rest so I can do my duties as a Northwest before running off again. So if you’ll leave my dreams in peace, and I’ll get back to sleeping.”

“ **Sure thing**. Don’t want to **disturb** your **beauty sleep**.”

Something about that reminded Gideon of something.

Bill’s glow grew brighter as he got ready to disappear.

Of course! Somehow, it had completely slipped Gideon’s mind.

“Cipher, wait!”

Bill’s glow dimmed.

“Pacifica,” Gideon said, suddenly feeling short of breath. “Where is she?”

“You **don’t** want to **ask** that **question**.”

“ _Where is she?_ ” he shouted.

Bill looked at him for a long moment, then blinked. “She’s **safe**. Stop **looking** for her and she’ll **stay** that way.”

“Is that a threat, Cipher? Where is Pacifica!”

But Bill didn’t answer. He started to glow brighter again.

“Don’t you dare.”

Bill started to fade into the yellow light.

“ _Answer me, Cipher!_ ”

Gideon lunged for Bill in desperation, but his vision was blinded by yellow and his hands grasped only empty air. For a second he stared around the empty room, until it disappeared and he found himself sitting up in bed, breathing heavily. The afternoon sun streamed through his closed curtains.

It took a minute for his fuzzy brain to sort out the memories of his dreams. Dreams with Bill were always easier to remember.

 _She’s safe. Stop looking for her and she’ll stay that way_.

Gideon glared at the wall.

 _I’ll do what you want, Cipher. And with the three Journals in one place I’ll find a way to bend you into submission. You’ll be too scared to even_ dare _keeping me from Pacifica._ _I want in on your plans, but I want in on_ my _terms._

He didn’t know if Bill could read those thoughts. But he wasn’t sure he cared.

Gideon took a final deep breath and got up off his bed. If he was going to pull this off, he needed to go test something.


	4. Chapter 4

Dipper ran down the stairs, watching his feet so he wouldn’t trip over his untied shoelaces. He was wearing his hiking shoes: dark red sturdy tennis shoes with thick laces. They didn’t glow when he shone his new black light on them, but they made him feel like an adventurer.

At the base of the stairs, Mabel was struggling with her pack. “Grunkle Ford, this is really heavy,” she said as she tried to heft it onto her shoulders. Then she wobbled and grabbed onto the banister for support.

Dipper hurried over to help his sister. “What’s in there?” he asked. “We’re not taking the whole Museum with us, are we?”

“Just some equipment,” Ford said.

“I know it’s a shock,” Mabel said, setting the pack down with a _thump_ , “but I’m a weakling.”

“You’re not a weakling.”

“Grunkle Ford, I have noodle arms.” She held out her skinny little arms for him to see.

Dipper went past them into the kitchen, where Melody hummed to herself as she made them sandwiches.

“Ooh,” he said, hopping up on a stool, “you’re cutting them into triangles! I love sandwich triangles.”

“Me too,” Melody said. “Do you like honey or jam with your peanut butter?”

“Both!” He grinned at her. “Hey, Melody, do you know how to make invisible ink?”

Melody frowned in thought. “I think I might have a recipe somewhere. You wanna try out that black light you found?”

“Yep!” He pulled it out of his pocket. “I’m gonna bring it along, just in case there’s an invisible message somewhere in the bunker. There are all sorts of cool things in this house. You should’ve seen the attic.”

“Oh, I’ve seen the attic. Your uncle nearly had to tie me to a chair to keep me from cleanin’ it.”

“I think it’s cooler when it’s all dusty like that.”

Ten minutes later or so, the Pines were all ready to go. Mabel and Ford had renegotiated the backpack sizes so that Mabel wouldn’t fall over, the cute triangle sandwiches were all packed along with plenty of water bottles, the Journal was secure in Ford’s pack, and the black light was secure in Dipper’s. He didn’t think he’d actually need it, but you never know. Gotta be prepared on an _adventure_.

“Be safe,” Melody said. “Don’t let any of those gizmos go off in your pack. Don’t get split up. And for heaven’s sake, don’t come back dead.” She hugged the twins and and adjusted Ford’s turtleneck before stepping back to look over them. “Okay. You can go now.”

“Bye Melody,” Dipper said. “Don’t go crazy worrying about us!” He stepped up to the door and pulled it open.

And found himself staring into the wide eyes of Candy Chiu.

Her mouth was open, and her fist was up like she was about to knock on the door. She blinked as she stared back at Dipper.

“Oh, hi, Candy!” he said.

“Hi.” She slowly lowered her fist.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Come on in.”

Mabel, who’d been impatient to leave all morning, threw her hands up in exasperation. Dipper ignored her.

Once Candy was in the house, and Mabel, Ford, and Melody had moved back so they weren’t all squished, Candy coughed. “It looks like you’re about to leave, but, uh, I just wanted to hang out.”

“We are about to leave,” Mabel said.

“Greyson’s with his family today,” Candy continued, “so I thought I’d come over here. But it looks like you’re having a family day too.”

“Yes,” said Ford.

“Why don’t you come along?” asked Dipper.

“No,” said Ford.

“Where are you going?”

Ford started, “That’s class—”

“On an adventure!”

“—ified.”

“C’mon, Grunkle Ford, we should let her come!” Dipper turned to his great uncle. “We don’t know what’s down there, right? We might have to fight monsters and all that.”

“Well, yes. Exactly.”

“Candy can help! I’ve seen her take down bullies twice her size. And she’s even helped take down magical clones before, right, Candy?”

“She did,” Mabel said.

“I did?” Candy said.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks.”

“Hey!” Candy protested. She punched Dipper in the arm. “I look strong!”

“Ow!” Dipper rubbed his arm. “Yep, yep, you do.” He had almost said _cooler than she looks_ , so at least he went with the better of the two options. He still got punched.

“There won’t be any need for fighting,” Ford told Dipper.

“Wow, Mr. Pines,” Candy said. “You’re a worse liar than Greyson.”

Ford glared at her. “Melody,” he said, “is it wrong to punch a child?”

Melody patted his arm. “Yes, dear.”

“Ha, bring it on,” Candy said smugly. “I bet I could take you.”

“Um, Candy?” Dipper said nervously. “Grunkle Ford is pretty fit for an old dude.”

“She can come along if that means we can _go_ ,” Mabel cut in. “Come on, we were so close.”

There was silence for a moment as Ford and Candy stared at each other, neither daring to break the other’s gaze. Dipper was seriously impressed—he hadn’t ever seen someone hold Ford’s death stare for so long.

“Fine,” Ford said, still looking into Candy’s eyes. “You may come, but only if you do everything I say, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. That’s the promise the twins are under as well.”

“Fine,” Candy replied.

Then, somehow, they broke each other’s gaze at the exact same time.

Dipper decided it was a good idea to bring Candy along.

“Great!” Mabel said. “Can we go now?” She reached past Dipper to open the door.

“Wait,” Ford said. “If Candy is coming, then we can give her a pack with some extra—”

“Grunkle Ford, come onnnnnn,” Mabel interrupted. “We don’t need all that stuff.”

“We might.”

“So where are we going?” Candy asked Dipper.

He lowered his tone to his Mystery Narrator Voice. “To the center of the forest, where few dare to go. There lurks a great treasure surrounded by an unknown danger that may kill us all.”

Candy stared at him for a moment. He thought he saw her face get a little red, but it passed, and she assumed a nonchalant expression.

“Cool.”

But Dipper knew he had impressed her. He had a really cool Mystery Narrator Voice.

The Pines (plus Candy) finally left the Museum, heading out for the forest. The morning sun shone brightly down on them. Dipper appreciated the sunlight warming his back. After all, there wouldn’t be any sun where they were going.

~~~~~

Mabel shrugged her pack up higher on her shoulders and smiled up at the sun, wrinkling her nose and squinting at its brightness. It sparkled on the snow that blanketed the forest and made the trees look like crystal chandeliers.

Beside her, Ford kept a brisk pace through the forest. His footsteps squeaked in the soft snow, and the gun on his hip thunked against his leg. It was a just a stun gun, he’d assured Mabel, but she still decided to walk on the other side of him.

Before long, they reached the small clearing above the bunker. The tall tree at the edge of the clearing reached up through the snow. A small branch about ten feet off the ground had dustings of grey at its base, the only indication that it was metal masquerading as wood.

Mabel suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

She stared up at the tree. She’d seen it before. Well, of course she’d seen it before, she’d lived here for a weekend. But she’d seen it. . . before that.

“Mabes? You okay?” Dipper came up beside her.

“This tree. . .”

“It’s the entrance to the bunker,” Ford said.

“I-I know, but. . .” She circled slowly around the side of the tree. Then she gasped.

“What?” Dipper asked. Then he recognized it. “Oh!”

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, “this is where I found the third Journal!”

Ford’s eyes widened. “It is?”

“Yeah!” She stepped up to the tree and felt around its trunk until her fingers found a ridge in the metal. She pulled the compartment open, revealing the small box inside. “I didn’t notice the last time we were here, probably just because we were so preoccupied with. . . everything. But this is it. Step back, Dip, you’re standing on it.”

Dipper backed away.

Mabel pulled a small lever on the box, and another compartment in the ground slid open. “It was in here,” she told Ford.

Ford knelt in the snow and peered into the compartment. After a long silence, he stood up again, brushing the snow off his knees.

“F built the bunker,” he said quietly, “but he never told me about this.”

“Does that mean he stole the Journals?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t know,” Ford replied. “That seems to be the most plausible explanation.”

“But he built a secret compartment and hid one of them in it! Obviously that means he stole them, right? Unless he hid them to keep them safe, I guess, but safe from what?”

Ford held up a hand to stop Dipper’s flow of words. “I don’t want to make any assumptions,” he said. He continued staring down into the compartment beneath the forest floor.

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked softly. “What is it?”

“If F did steal the Journals. . . wouldn’t he have hid the other ones somewhere else? Somewhere far from here?”

Silence permeated the clearing.

After a long, sullen moment, Dipper took a single step forward, his light footstep deafening in the silent, frosty air. He put a hand on Ford’s arm. “We gotta look anyway,” he said. “Just in case.”

Ford seemed to come out of his stupor. “Of course,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Alright. Mabel, would you open the door?”

“M-me?” Mabel asked. She looked up at the branch towering above her head. The tree trunk between her and the lever had to be at least twice her height. “But you and Dipper would always open it, with a rock, or something.”

“This is why I insisted you keep the grappling hook in your pack. You’ll find it’s far more accurate.”

 _Not when I’m using it_ , Mabel thought. She didn’t have a good aim. Or any type of hand-eye coordination. But she followed Ford’s instructions nonetheless, shrugging her pack off her shoulder into the snow and rummaging through until she found it.

The grappling hook was heavy in her hands. She wrapped her fingers around the handle, cautiously sliding one finger to rest on top of the trigger. “Grunkle Ford, I don’t think you want me shooting this thing.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be fine. Come over here by Candy and point it at the branch, there you go.”

Mabel did what he said, and she appreciated that he wanted her to do it, but. . . didn’t he get that she _couldn’t_ do this type of thing? The only times she’d done anything “strong” were when she was running on adrenaline.

Still, she stepped back so she could clearly see the branch and pointed the grappling hook, holding it tightly with both hands.

Grunkle Ford came to her side, crouching down to get to her eye level. “Good. . . a little to the left.”

She adjusted her aim and swallowed.

“Okay, go for it.”

Mabel pulled the trigger with her eyes squeezed shut.

The hook exploded from the chamber, and Mabel stumbled back at the kick from the gun. Ford caught her before she fell over. She opened her eyes in time to see the hook hit the tree far below the branch and fall back to the ground.

“Aw, come on, it’s only a couple feet up,” Candy said from beside her.

Mabel flushed.

“Candy!” Dipper exclaimed. Mabel glanced at his face; it was open and wide in shocked anger.

Mabel pressed the button to bring the hook back to the gun. The string whined as it sailed through the air.

“Mabes—” Dipper began.

“I got this,” she said, standing up straight and clutching the grappling hook in her hands. She shot a little glare at Candy, who raised her hands and stepped back. The look on her face said she didn’t think Mabel could do it.

A flare of determination ran through Mabel’s spine. She wanted to prove she could do it. Anybody else would be able to hit the dumb branch with the grappling hook. She would too.

She adjusted the grappling hook in her hands, brought it up, took a breath, and fired.

This time, she managed to keep her footing. The grappling hook stayed on its course and hit the branch from underneath with a _clank_.

The branch moved up, and the tree started to shake.

“Go Mabel!” Dipper cheered. She grinned at him in a thrill of triumph.

“What is up with this tree?” Candy demanded as it started descending into the ground. Nobody answered her.

They all watched as the tree and the ground around it continued sinking down. Once it was far enough, it stopped with a grumble of machinery. Wooden stairs slid out to form stairs. A door at the base of the sunken tree opened.

“Okay,” Candy said. “Definitely not a normal tree, then.”

Dipper grinned at her, seeming to have forgiven her for being rude to Mabel. Lucky him. Mabel was still mad.

“Welcome,” he said in his Mystery Narrator Voice, the one he sometimes practiced when he thought Mabel was asleep, “to the bunker.”


	5. Chapter 5

Gideon followed the Pines down into the bunker. He had to admit it was pretty impressive. Maybe even more impressive than the one his family owned.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he got his first good look inside. He grimaced. _Definitely_ not as clean.

He followed the Pines and the small fiend Candy at a safe distance. Every time they looked back, his heart jumped in fear they would see him. But they never did.

Before Pacifica had told him about what she’d found, he’d never imagined using his amulet for invisibility. He did most of his work away from prying eyes anyway. But after using yesterday to practice, he felt confident he could hold the invisibility for a sustained amount of time. This was going to be extremely useful.

Stanford led his little group swiftly across the small room, leaving Gideon little time to look around. He was impressed by the amount of supplies down here, as well as the half-open weapons cabinet. Stanford certainly was prepared. They’d be fine down here once he trapped them.

“Through here,” Stanford said, pulling aside a poster to reveal a circular crawl space.

The passage was long and cramped. Even though he couldn’t see them, Gideon just knew his pants were getting filthy.

All five of them went through, Ford first and Gideon invisibly at the rear. The passage opened into a square room with the walls and ceiling divided into smaller squares, each with a strange symbol in its center.

“Woah,” Mabel says. “It looks so cool.” She reached out to touch a symbol on the wall.

“Don’t touch that!” Ford shouted.

Mabel pulled her hand back in shock.

“Sorry,” Ford said. “This is the security room. I’m trying to remember how to get past. . . but until I do, don’t touch anything, okay? Don’t move.”

Everybody froze.

Ford reached into his pack and pulled out the Journal, nearly hitting Gideon with it. Gideon stared at it hungrily. Not yet. He needed to find the first Journal, and then he could take this one.

Ford flipped through the Journal. “This is the page where I supposedly put the code,” he said, “but it’s just a diagram of the symbols. Which ones are the key?” He took a cautious step forward.

Towards Gideon.

Gideon stepped back hurriedly to get out of the way. The floor under his foot gave way, and he stumbled. A glance to the ground showed he had stepped on some sort of pressure plate.

The circular door closed and sealed shut. The symbols on the walls and floor and ceiling lit up in red. A buzzer sounded.

And the walls began to close in.

“Something set it off!” Ford cried, looking around in panic. The squares on the walls and floor and ceiling shot out towards them, one by one.

“Grunkle Ford, what’s happening?” Dipper backed up, almost running into Gideon. Gideon twisted out of the way. This trap would surely reveal his presence—if it didn’t kill them all in the process.

His hand went to his amulet to push the blocks back, but stopped himself just in time. He’d wait and see if the Pines could get themselves out of this. He’d only reveal himself if he had to.

“Everybody stay calm,” Ford was saying. “The code. . . it’s on this page somewhere. . .”

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel shouted, “you have to remember!”

Ford closed his eyes. “Code. . . hidden. . .”

“Grunkle Ford! It’s closing in!”

“Shine it on the page. . .”

“ _Grunkle Ford!_ ”

Stanford’s eyes shot open. “Black light!”

“Wh-what?” Mabel asked. She held tightly onto Dipper’s hand.

“Dipper! Do you still have that black light you found?”

“Yeah—”

“Get it out! Hurry!”

Dipper rummaged in his pack until he pulled out a pen-like object. Stanford snatched it from his hand and held it over the Journal. Gideon moved to look down at the pages.

White markings leapt from the page.

Gideon stared in disbelief. Black light? Stanford had hidden more information in his Journals. . . _in invisible ink!_

“Everyone! Find these four symbols and press them down!” Stanford turned the Journal around to show everyone.

The group scattered among the small room, dodging around pillars that rose from the floor. Gideon went to look too, just in case.

“One!” Candy shouted from across the room.

Dipper jumped in front of Gideon and slapped a tile with his palm. “Two!”

A few feet away, Mabel climbed up the blocks that slid out from the walls. Gideon sucked in a breath as she wobbled, but she managed to touch a tile just before it was covered by a block. “Three!” she said, then scrambled down from her precarious perch.

“Where’s the fourth one?” Dipper asked, darting around the room to look.

“I can’t find it.” Ford’s voice shook slightly.

Gideon climbed up onto a block to get out of the way of them all. Then he saw it.

He watched, waiting for one of the Pines to see it. But it was a ways off the floor, and no one did. Gideon reached for it, but hesitated.

He had already set off the security system. If he pressed the last tile, would they start to suspect he was here?

“Where is it?” Mabel’s strangled cry ripped through his ears. “Grunkle Ford, I—I can’t find it!”

Gideon jumped up and slammed his hand onto the tile.

There was a short, deafening squeal of machinery as a door behind him opened. Gideon dived for it, hitting the floor beyond in a roll and moving out of the way before the Pines could run into him.

“There!” Dipper cried. “Run for it!”

It was a painfully long second, waiting for them to make it out. Candy was the first, then Dipper, then Mabel—Gideon let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding—and finally Ford. The last of the blocks slammed together, and the security room went still.

They all stood, breathing heavily, for a moment. Gideon joined them, figuring they wouldn’t hear him over their own breaths.

“G-Grunkle Ford,” Mabel panted, “you used invisible ink in the Journal?” She looked as shocked—and excited—as Gideon felt.

“I did,” Stanford replied. “I. . . I can’t believe I didn’t remember. There’s so much more. . . all the extremely sensitive information. . .”

“It’s in invisible ink,” Mabel finished. Gideon mouthed the words with her.

“So that’s why you even had a black light pen in the first place!” Dipper said.

“Grunkle Ford, this is great! What if there’s information in the third Journal about the other Journals? But in invisible ink!”

Stanford’s eyes widened. “Of course! Great thinking, Mabel!”

“What is this place?” Candy asked, running her finger along a metal surface. The narrow room was lined with bulky machinery and shelves laden with dusty objects.

“It’s. . .” Ford looked around. “It’s an observation room. F and I used to monitor our specimens from here.”

“Specimens?” Mabel repeated. “You mean you kept live creatures down here?”

“Yes, to study. I don’t think the Journal is in here, but we’d better look. Kids, spread out. Look everywhere, but don’t press any buttons or anything without asking me first. I’m going to look through the Journal again with this black light.”

Gideon would rather have that job. But if he was going to succeed, he had to find the Journal first. There’d be plenty of time to look over all three Journals in black light—once he had them.

 Gideon, Mabel, Dipper, and Candy all spread out to follow Ford’s instructions. The room was small and cramped, making it difficult for Gideon to find a place to look. He couldn’t exactly move things around, especially after his hand in the security room fiasco. So he stayed in the corner of the room, intently looking at the space around him.

Mabel wandered over to him.

He held his breath and carefully sidestepped out of the way as she reached for a shelf behind him. He could reach out and touch her, she was so close. Gideon found himself staring at her, instead of looking for the Journal, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Her expression was one of intense concentration, but, though her face was partly covered by her hair, he could see wisps of anger in her eyes. One hand clutched her grappling hook while the other rummaged around the shelf. He’d been impressed with her aim when she shot the tree branch; the only reason she missed the first time was because she stumbled. He looked closer at her hand, short fingers wrapped tightly around the grappling hook. Was she still angry because of what Candy had said?

“Mabel.”

Mabel spun around, a startled look in her eyes. Gideon sometimes did that when people interrupted him in deep thinking, though he hoped his eyes didn’t betray it the same way Mabel’s did. Still, the shock made her face look open, and he liked the way her mouth fell open in a little O.

 “I’m sorry,” Candy said, “about what I said earlier.”

Mabel stared at the girl for a moment. “Oh. Um, thanks.”

“I didn’t know it would upset you. Or. . . or Dipper.”

“Dipper? Well, yeah, he’s pretty protective of me, I guess. But why. . . ?”

A strange look dawned on Mabel’s face.

“Never mind,” Candy said hurriedly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Candy, do you. . . ?”

Candy flushed bright red. There was a silence.

“Okay, yeah, I have a huge crush on your brother,” Candy said, her words low and fast.

“Oh.”

Gideon wanted to get away, to stop listening. This was a. . . a _girl talk_. It felt wrong to hear it, somehow. But Mabel looked almost as lost as he was, and he couldn’t tear himself away.

“What do I do?” Candy asked suddenly, glancing over her shoulder at Dipper on the other side of the room. “Sometimes I think he’s flirting with me, other times I think he’s just being himself. But he’s so cute, and I just want. . . and what about that Amanda girl?”

Mabel had the deer-in-the-headlights look again. “I, um. Dipper flirts with a lot of girls, o-or at least he tries to impress them. But he’s your friend, so he’s being nice because he likes you. A-as a friend. And Amanda, um, she was just visiting. She’s back home, but they still email.”

“Were they together?” Candy whispered.

“Ah, um, sort of?” Mabel replied.

 _She’s cute when she’s flustered,_ said Gideon’s brain.

Gideon started at the thought. Where had _that_ come from?

“What does that mean?” Candy demanded.

Mabel winced. “L-look, I don’t exactly know where Dipper’s love life is right now. I say you should tell him about your crush and ask him yourself.”

Candy’s face got even redder, if that was possible. “Tell him?”

“Yeah, he’s cool about that kind of stuff. Listen, I’m, uh, gonna keep looking for the Journal.”

“Right,” Candy said. “Okay. Um, thanks, Mabel.”

“No problem,” Mabel replied. Candy moved away, and Mabel visibly relaxed. Huh, Gideon did that too, when he thought he was alone.

_Mabel does think she’s alone. You’re invisible, Gideon._

Of course he was. And he should go look for the Journal somewhere else, since Mabel obviously wasn’t finding it here.

He stayed and watched Mabel’s face instead.

The anger had gone from her eyes, and her fingers loosened around her grappling hook. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and adjusted her headband, which gleamed dully in the artificial light. Her eyes were soft, and he noticed streaks of golden hazel hidden among the brown of her irises.

He’d never been close enough to her to see the details of her eyes.

He tried not to get too close, in case she felt his breath on her skin. But to see her face like this. . . open and honest and not glaring at him. . . it was nicer than he would’ve expected.

But he also knew that if he saw her, that would end. Her face would close, her anger would shield her bright eyes, and her entire body would radiate hatred towards him. Like it had last week.

So he counted himself lucky that he could see her like this, invisible, seeing her as she really was.

“Grunkle Ford, look at this!”

Gideon swung his gaze to the other end of the room, where Dipper was struggling to pull something off a high shelf. Candy hurried over to help, and together they extracted a large metal box. Gideon took soft, slow steps across the room to get a better look.

Dipper coughed from the dust as he held up the box. “It has a handle, like a briefcase or something. But it’s really heavy.”

Stanford closed the Journal and set it on a nearby machine. Gideon stared hungrily at it. Dimly lit buttons along the surface of the machine cast it in a halo of light.

Not yet, Northwest. Not yet.

“That’s not a briefcase,” Ford said. He took the metal box from Dipper and pried it open. The front half swung down, revealing a keyboard on one half and a screen on the other.

“It’s a laptop!” Mabel said. Gideon froze. He hadn’t noticed her coming up beside him.

“A really old-timey laptop,” Dipper added.

Candy peered at a strip of metal above the screen. “’Property of F,’” she read.

“This was. . . this was his laptop,” Stanford said. “My assistant’s. We used it to program everything.” His eyes lit up. “If I could fix this up, we might be able to use it instead of the Journals!”

“Wait, really?” Mabel asked. “It has the instructions for—” she glanced at Candy, “—the invention?”

“I believe it does.” Stanford smiled. “I’ve never been much of a mechanic. That was F’s job. But I should be able to get it working again. Even if we don’t find the Journals down here, this is a great lead! Good job, Dipper.”

Dipper grinned. “Thanks!”

Gideon frowned. What invention? What did the Pines need the Journals for? Should he steal this laptop as well, just in case?

He glanced at Mabel. He had to get the Journals, and this laptop now, and then trap the Pines down here.

No more distractions.


	6. Chapter 6

Mabel held in yet another cough as a plume of dust hit her full in the face. She’d been in her fair share of dusty places—one of her favorite pastimes in Piedmont was trespassing on old, abandoned properties—but Grunkle Ford’s bunker was a whole new level of grimy. Underground, with ventilation systems that hadn’t been used in decades. Layers upon layers of the dust that only comes upon absence of human beings. You could see the patterns in the dust where the Mabel and the other three intruders had clumsily broken its spell over the room.

Her hand felt the back of the shelf she was halfheartedly searching. This room was small; there weren’t that many places for the first Journal to be. Had they come down here for nothing?

Not for nothing. Dipper had found that laptop. Ford was really excited about the laptop.

But Mabel still wanted to find the Journal. _She_ wanted to find the Journal. She played the scene over in her head as she felt around another shelf. She would find it and present it to Ford, and his eyes would light up and he’d look at her with such excitement, such pride. . .

Well, maybe not. But a girl could dream.

“Grunkle Ford, I don’t think there’s anything else in here.” Dipper pulled Mabel out her thoughts, and she glanced over at him. He was leaning against one of the old computers, dust swirling around his elbows.

“Keep looking,” was Ford’s distracted reply. His eyes never left the Journal he was studying. Had he found anything yet under the black light?

“We’ve looked everywhere,” Candy complained. Mabel winced. Couldn’t Candy stand to be a little quieter? It was a small room. They could all hear her.

Ford mumbled something incoherent.

Dipper sighed and pushed himself from the computer. Mabel agreed—the Journal probably wasn’t in here—but she wanted to keep looking, just in case they’d missed something. . .

She turned back to the dusty shelves.

Dipper and Candy gave up, from what it sounded like behind her, but she kept going. Just in case. Her eyes peered into dark corners; her fingers groped into tiny crevices. Nothing.

“I’ve already checked those ones.”

Mabel started. Candy was standing right there, watching her with a bored expression on her face. When had she come over here?

“I-I just want to make sure,” Mabel said.

“How long are we gonna be down here, anyway? Your uncle is still looking at that book.”

Mabel pressed her hand against the metal shelf and took a silent breath. “Look, you’re the one who wanted to join us on this thing.”

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I’m just wondering.”

 _Wondering._ More like complaining.

“Hey, Candy, look!”

Both girls turned their heads. Dipper was standing in a little closet at the far end of the room in some ridiculous pose. “Beep boop, I am a nerd robot,” he said, moving his arms jerkily and speaking in monotone—or, as close to monotone as Dipper could get.

Candy laughed. Loudly. Mabel winced again. It wasn’t even that funny.

She glanced at Candy as the girl turned away. Her face was red.

Oh. Right.

She wished Candy hadn’t told her about her crush on Dipper. Mabel wasn’t exactly the confidant type. At least, not for someone like Candy. She barely knew the girl, and now she had to put up with the awkwardness of being around a one-sided crush. It definitely was one-sided, too—most people couldn’t see the difference between normal goofy Dipper and flirting goofy Dipper, but after thirteen years of living with him, Mabel certainly could.

Candy muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Mabel asked.

“I’m gonna do it,” she said, low but forceful.

“Do. . . what?”

Candy stood up straight. “Don’t let me out until I tell him, alright?”

Now Mabel was really confused. “What?”

“Don’t open the door until I’ve told him. No matter what I say.”

“Um. . .”

Candy started across the room.

“Candy, wait!” Mabel hissed. “What do you mean?”

Candy didn’t look back.

She walked over to Dipper with a fake laugh. “You’re so funny, Dip,” she said, leaning against the door.

“I try,” Dipper said happily.

“This is for my own good,” Candy said.

“Huh?”

Candy stepped into the closet and slammed the door closed.

Oh.

Ford looked up from his reading. “What just happened?”

Mabel crossed the room as fast as she could. “Candy and Dipper are stuck in the closet!” She pounded on the door with her palm. “Guys! Guys, can you hear me!”

“ _We’re fine!_ ” Dipper called back. His voice was muffled by the thick metal. “Can you open the door from that end?”

“ _No, not yet!_ ” Candy yelled. Even through the door it was too loud. Even though Mabel had, once again, lived with Dipper her whole life, this was a different kind of too loud. A harsh kind. Candy said something else, but Mabel couldn’t make it out.

“What are they doing in there?” Ford asked. Was that note of concern in his voice?

Mabel sighed and sat down next to him on the floor. Her jeans were already dirty anyway. “Candy has a crush on Dipper,” she said, “and apparently this is her way to forcing herself to tell him. She’s a maniac.” First off, because you never tell someone you have a crush on them if it’s obvious they don’t like you back.

Ford turned back to his reading. “Two unsupervised teenagers in a dark closet. What could go wrong.”

“Candy’s only twelve, she’s not a. . .” Mabel trailed off. She felt her face heat up. “Oh gosh, what if she does kiss him? She might just go for it—there’s no telling what she’d do—”

“Yes, she’s such an unstable child compared to you teenagers.”

Mabel fell silent. That stung.

Ford glanced up at her. “I’m sorry, Mabel, I can get sarcastic when I’m distracted.” He sighed deeply and closed the Journal. “I wrote a lot of secrets in black light,” he said. “Things I can remember now. But nothing about the location of the other Journals, and there’s still those missing pages.”

“So we’re still blind?”

“Yes.”

There was a sudden sound like a shower being turned on.

Mabel and Ford both jumped, but the sound had already faded away. “What was that?” Mabel asked.

“I. . . don’t know. It sounded like pipes.”

“Stuff is still working down here?”

“It makes sense that we would have our own power source. F built this thing as a possible hideaway during nuclear fallout. But after thirty years. . .”

Dust floated in the air between them.

After a moment, Ford got to his feet. “What would we have needed pipes for?” he wondered aloud.

Mabel frowned as stood up next to him. That was a good question.

_BANG BANG BANG!_

This time, Mabel jumped so hard that she knocked into Ford’s arm. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Wha—what—”

“ _Mabel! Mabel you gotta let us out of here!_ ”

“It’s Dipper!” Mabel reached the closet door in a few steps, hitting against it before she could stop herself. “Dipper! Are you okay?”

“ _You gotta let us out!_ ”

“ _Wait, no, Dip—_ ” Candy’s voice “— _I gotta tell you—_ ”

Dipper actually sounded scared—there was no way Mabel was playing along with Candy’s stupid game! “Grunkle Ford, help me get this open!”

Together they pried it open. Ford did most of the work, but Mabel still pulled with all her might.

A cannonball in the form of Dipper streaked out of the closet as soon as there was space enough for him to do so. Mabel’s heart leapt to her throat. What had Candy done?!? She rushed over to her brother.

“Dip! Dipper, are you okay?”

“That’s not—a closet—”

“What?”

“Look.”

She turned around. Ford was standing in the doorway to the closet, while Candy stood to the side, looking angry. Beyond Ford, however, there was no longer a black metal wall.

Mabel stepped forward to get a closer look. “Is that. . . ?”

She trailed off as her eyes found the jagged rock walls beyond the closet.

“Grunkle Ford. . . ,” she said. “In that diagram in the Journal. . . weren’t there. . . four rooms in the bunker?”

It was a long moment before he turned to look at her. “Yes. Yes, that’s where we kept. . . kept the test subjects. Those pipe sounds, that was the decontamination process.”

Mabel repressed a shiver. Every time Ford talked like that—so matter-of-fact about something he hadn’t known the moment before—it reminded her of the dangers of going on adventures with a man who was missing chunks of his memories.

“So is the Journal back there?” she asked.

“It could be. It very well could be.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze then. “Right. This place seems to still have power, so. . .”

Ford turned around brusquely and stood in front of a computer terminal. His fingers found the keyboard, and after a few deft keystrokes, the screen flickered to life.

Mabel turned to Dipper. “Dip, what happened? Why were you so scared?”

He shrugged. “It all seems kinda silly, now, but. . . I thought I heard something. Something growling.”

“Growling?”

“Yeah, but not like a bear or a dog. Something. . . different.”

Mabel whirled around. “Grunkle Ford, are there still creatures back there?”

“What? No, there shouldn’t be. It’s been thirty years. They would’ve all died off, if there were any left.”

His tone was too unconcerned to reassure her. “Do you remember any specific creatures you kept down here?”

Ford’s fingers paused, hovering above the keys. “No. Not particularly.”

He typed a few more things and then turned around. “Alright. I don’t think there should be anything back there, but there might be. That’s why we’re prepared. Mabel and I will go explore. Dipper, Candy, you stay here. I set up this monitor here so you can see us and come help if you need to.”

“I don’t want to just sit here,” Candy said, folding her arms.

“That’s exactly what you’ll be doing for now.”

Mabel couldn’t help it: she smirked at Candy from behind Ford.

“Mabel, grab your pack and your grappling hook and let’s go.”

Then Mabel realized exactly what was happening.

“W-wait, Grunkle Ford—”

He looked at her, and she swallowed her words. No complaining, Mabel, then you’re just like Candy. And you can’t be scared around Ford either. You have to impress him.

“Never mind,” she said. “I’m coming.”

She grabbed her pack, checking to make sure the grappling hook was secure inside, and swung it over her shoulder. Then she followed Ford out into the new room.

Candy glared at her as she passed. “I told you not to open the door,” she muttered under her breath.

Mabel stopped and looked at the girl incredulously. A million things to say rushed through her head, but the one that came out was, “Whose side do you think I’m on?”

It didn’t make very much sense, but it seemed to work. Candy scuffed at the floor with her shoe. “Well, the moment’s ruined now. I’ll just have to do it later.”

Mabel suspected that last part wasn’t for her, so she left and caught up with Ford.

The fourth room wasn’t much like the other three. Instead of a four-walled room, it was hollowed out of the rock like a cave. Metal pipes jutted up from the ground and crisscrossed on the walls. It reminded Mabel vaguely of the room with the portal in it. Instead of a portal, however, this room had tubes lining the walls, florescent lights overhead, and a big metal cage with one side blown out.

“Um, Grunkle Ford?” she asked. “What was in that?”

He followed her pointing finger with his gaze. “That cage was busted open years ago,” he said. “It was like that the last time I saw it.”

“But what was in it?”

“Whatever it was, it’s probably dead.” He started for the other end of the cave.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, hurrying after him. “Grunkle Ford, I know you’re frustrated about your memory and everything, but if we aren’t careful th-then we can get seriously hurt. Are you saying you don’t remember what was in that cage?”

Ford paused. Then he sighed. “No,” he said, his eyes passing over Mabel’s head. “No, I don’t.” He squinted at something behind her. “But it looks like it’s made tunnels.”

Mabel turned. Sure enough, there were tunnels dotting the rock walls that surrounded them. Some of them were close enough to the ground for her and Ford to reach.

She swallowed. “Do you think something’s in there?”

“Mabel.” Ford met her eyes. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“N-no, I—”

“A little fear is a good thing. I’m somewhat afraid myself. I don’t remember what was in that cage—I have hazy thoughts, but that’s it. Trying to regain these memories is one of the most frustrating endeavors of my life. But if there is something in those tunnels, I promise I’ll keep us safe. Alright?”

It was what Mabel needed to hear. “Okay.”

He smiled. “Good. And besides, you can probably handle yourself with that grappling hook anyway.”

She blushed.

“Come on. Let’s follow one of these tunnels and see where it leads.”

They chose the widest tunnel, pulled out their flashlights, and began their trek. Mabel felt reassured after Ford’s mini pep talk, but still stayed close on his heels. She _definitely_ did not want to get separated down here.

Something growled in the distance.

Mabel grabbed onto Ford’s sleeve. “Grunkle Ford, did you hear that?”

“Yes. It might just have been the pipes settling.”

He didn’t sound convinced.

They kept going. Water dripped from stalactites onto the ground. Mabel’s flashlight beam trembled a bit.

Another low growl.

“M-maybe we should go back.”

“Maybe we should,” Ford conceded.

But now it was a roar.

Followed by a scream.

Mabel swung her flashlight around wildly. That had been a _human_ sound. Not a scream of fear, but one of rage. And too deep for it to have been Dipper or Candy.

The monster roared again, and Mabel and Ford hurried to the walls of the tunnel. Again came the human scream. Then the sound of someone falling. Mabel and Ford listened, too stunned to move, to what sounded like a person and a monster in combat.

Someone else was down here.

The fight didn’t last long. With a final roar of pain, the monster fell silent. Moments later, footsteps sounded on the wet, rocky floor.

Ford carefully moved his flashlight beam towards the sound.

“Agh!” The figure shielded his eyes. “That’s bright.”

“Who are you?” Ford demanded. “What are you doing down here?”

The figure stepped forward, but he was too far away to make out clearly. “St-Stanford?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Stanford! It is you!”

The man ran forward. Ford shifted in posture—getting ready to fight, Mabel realized.

But the man stopped a few feet before reaching them. “Do. . . do you really not recognize me?”

Silence.

And then Ford’s flashlight fell to the ground.

Mabel hurried to move her flashlight beam onto the figure so she could see. When her vision cleared, she thought she was seeing double for a moment.

An old man with a long nose and a square-shaped face stood facing Ford. A man with a face just like Ford’s.

Ford stared. Mabel stared.

It hit Mabel who the man was just before Ford said his name.

“Stanley?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Stanford!”

 

 

Stanley threw his arms out and hugged his brother tightly. Ford stood there stiffly. When Stanley drew back, Mabel could see the shock in Ford’s eyes.

“Lee. . . How?”

Lee put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Brother. I’ve been waiting for you for thirty years.”

“But you were. . .”

“Don’t you remember? There was an accident. I got trapped down here. I’ve been here ever since, living off canned beans and fighting off the last of your monsters. I thought you would come back, but. . . you never did.”

“That isn’t what I remember at all,” Ford said. “But my memory hasn’t exactly been reliable lately.”

Mabel thought back to that night in the secret basement. The expression of Ford’s face as he stared up at the portal was burned into her memory. The tears he had shed for his brother had glistened as they had fallen to the ground. He couldn’t have remembered _wrong_. Could he?

“Follow me,” Stanley said. “Come see where I’ve been all these years.”

He bent down and picked up Ford’s flashlight, handing it back to his brother with a smile.

Ford took it, but didn’t smile back.

Stanley started down the tunnel.

“Wait,” Mabel said. “Isn’t the monster back there?”

Stanley turned. “Oh. Yes. I stashed the body in another tunnel. There are all sorts of monster corpses littered around here. But I keep the path to my hideout clear.”

Mabel and Ford followed him through the passage. They didn’t say anything, but both of them stayed back a little.

 “Mabel,” Ford whispered. “Something is wrong.”

“That’s not your brother, is it?”

He shot her an impressed look. “I don’t think it is. What tipped you off?”

“You. You looked suspicious. And you can’t be wrong about him being in the portal. Not after the other night.”

Ford nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too. There are plenty of creatures who can look like something they’re not. And something else he said. . . ‘all sorts of monster corpses.’ There was only one cage back there, and the harder I think about it, the more I only remember one creature.”

“What kind of creature?”

“I’m not sure.”

Mabel and Ford abruptly cut off their conversation as Stanley came to a stop in front of them. Lee—or, the Lee imposter—stepped up onto a rocky ledge and pushed back a tattered cloth hanging down from the ceiling. “Here we are.”

The room beyond looked like the rest of the tunnels, except littered with empty cans and metal scraps.

“It’s not much,” Lee said with a chuckle. “But it’s home.”

“How come you couldn’t just leave?” Mabel asked, glancing at Ford. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. They’d ask the imposter some questions to see if they could get him to reveal himself.

“I couldn’t get past the security room!” Lee replied. “We came down here all the time, but Fordsie here always put in the code. I didn’t dare try. I know how dangerous that thing is. It’s ridiculous, but Fidds just couldn’t help himself.”

Ford gasped.

Mabel jumped at the force of it. Ford stumbled back, hitting a nearby rock wall. His eyes were wide, his breathing heavy.

“Gr-Grunkle Ford?”

He shook his head. “I-I’m fine.” Even though he obviously wasn’t. He met Mabel’s eyes, then glanced to the Lee imposter. Mabel caught the message: _keep him talking_.

Mabel forced herself to turn away. Ford’s labored breaths still filled the space behind her.

“So, um, Lee, what kind of monsters are down here, anyway?”

Lee blinked before his eyes focused on her. “Oh. I don’t really know their fancy science names. Again, that was Ford’s job.”

“What about that one you just fought? What did it look like?”

Lee squirmed a little. His hand went up to his grey hair. “It was, well, this big brown thing. I wouldn’t want to scare you with too many of the details, not a cute little kid like you. Who are you, anyway?”

Should she tell the truth? “I’m, um,  I’m Stanford’s great niece. Yours too, I guess.”

“You do look like a Pines.”

“Thanks? Um, will you show me around your—cave?”

She was bad at this game. Luckily, the Lee imposter was too.

“Sure.” He spread his hands out. “My cave.”

Dang it. She was hoping she could get him to turn his back. Maybe he was better at this game than she thought.

“I’m sorry,” Ford said, leaving the wall he’d been leaning on. “I had, ah, a brief asthma attack.”

“It’s no problem,” Stanley replied.

Mabel and Ford glanced at each other. Now they definitely knew Lee was an imposter: Ford didn’t have asthma.

“Say, Ford,” Stanley said. “Do you still have those Journals of yours?”

“No. We’re actually down here looking for them. Do you know where any of them are?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

They fell into awkward silence.

Ford opened his mouth. “Well—”

Something clattered in the distance.

“What was that?” Mabel asked. “Is something out there?”

“Oh,” Lee said, “the rocks shift all the time.” His face looked nervous.

“It might be another monster,” Ford said. Mabel was surprised to see fear on his face. “Lee, I haven’t been in the game for a long time. Maybe you should go out and check?”

“I don’t think there’s anything out there.”

“Just in case?” Ford pleaded.

Something flickered across Lee’s expression. “Alright, fine. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out of the cave.

As soon as the curtain fluttered down after him, Ford turned to Mabel and dropped to a knee to get at her level. The fear in his eyes was completely gone, and only then did Mabel realize he’d been faking it.

“Mabel, I remember. I remember everything.”

“Everything?” Mabel whispered.

“Everything about the bunker,” he conceded. “But I know who that man is. And it definitely isn’t my brother. It isn’t even a man.”

“Who? What is it?”

“He was the first and only experiment we brought down here. We found him as an egg. Lee affectionately named him Shifty.”

Mabel’s stomach dropped. “You mean. . .”

Ford nodded. “We’re dealing with a shapeshifter. One who can turn into monsters even I could never defeat.”

~~~~~

Candy draped herself over an old-timey recording machine, fiddling absently with the tapes. “It’s so _boring_ in here,” she moaned.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, “but Grunkle Ford said to stay in here.”

“So do you just do everything he says?”

Dipper frowned. “Candy, he wouldn’t let any of us come along unless we followed his instructions. Don’t you remember?”

Candy made a _pfft_ sound and let her arm swing down. It hit a stack of papers, flinging them across the room.

“Aw, c’mon, Candy. Now we gotta clean these up.” Dipper bent down with a sigh.

He had already gathered about half of them before Candy joined him.

“Candy. . .” Dipper said. “Have you read any of these papers?”

“It’s just a bunch of math stuff,” she replied.

“What if they have clues about the Journal?”

“If you wanna read them, go ahead.” She grabbed the last of them off the floor and handed her pile to Dipper.

Dipper frowned again, this time at Candy’s back. He’d suspected for a while that she might have a crush on him, but then she did rude little things like this. Was that just her awkward way of crushing, or was he misreading her?

He shook the thoughts away and started flipping through the papers in his hand.

Candy was right; it was a bunch of math stuff. But Dipper kept looking, a little ways through the stack, he pulled out a page of written notes.

“Here’s something. Huh,” he said. “I don’t think this is Ford’s handwriting.”

He traced the words with a finger.

“ _Experiment #210. The Shapeshifter._ _This unnerving creature can turn into anything it sees. Stanford finds ‘Shifty’ delightful, but I can’t help thinking. . . what if it tries to pose as us one day? What if got into town and could impersonate everyone? Once again, Stanford is blinded to the dangers by his scientific interest._ ”

There were a bunch of technical terms after that, talking about the Shapeshifter’s qualities and abilities. Dipper’s eyes skipped down to big, blocky words scrawled at the bottom of the page.

“ _SHIFTY ATTACKED ME! HE TIED ME UP AND TRIED TO POSE AS ME IN FRONT OF FORD! HE’S TOO DANGEROUS!_ ”

And then, at the very bottom, in more neat, deliberate capitals. “ _PLACED IN CRYOGENIC STASIS._ ”

“Who wrote that?” Candy asked, once Dipper had finished reading aloud.

“Ford’s assistant, looks like.”

“Those noises we heard. . .”

Dipper looked up at her. “Do you think that. . . was. . . ?”

They stared at each other with wide eyes. It took a moment before Dipper’s voice would work again.

“We gotta go find Mabel and Ford!”

~~~~~

The next thing Mabel knew, Ford was pulling a gun out of his pack. “Get out your grappling hook,” he instructed her.

She did as he said. The weight of the grappling hook in her hand was surprisingly comforting. “Won’t he know that we’re onto him?”

“I can’t think of any other ways to stall.” He cursed under his breath. “Scrabdoodle! We’ve let him corner us. We have to get out of here.”

“Scrab. . . doodle?” Mabel asked.

“It’s something Fiddleford used to say.”

“Who?”

“My—”

“See, I told you, no monsters out here!” Stanley—no, Shifty—had returned. He paused in the doorway, his hand still pushing up the curtain. “What’s with you two?”

Ford laughed. “Oh, we’re just jumpy, is all. You know me. Your paranoid brother.”

Shifty-Stanley’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, this has been really nice,” Ford continued, “but don’t you think we should get back to the observation room and get out of here? We’ll go back home. Together.”

Shifty-Stanley grinned. “Of course! I’ve been waiting for you to give the word.”

“Great.” Ford stepped towards the entrance. Mabel followed, staying deliberately behind her great uncle.

“Wait a second,” Shifty-Stanley said. He didn’t move from the entrance. “I believe you have something I need.”

“What do you mean?” Mabel noticed Ford’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the gun.

Unfortunately, Shifty-Stanley noticed too.

“Give me the Journal, Stanford,” he said. “I know you have it.”

“I told you. We don’t have any of them.”

“Cut the games, Ford, we all know you’re lying!”

“Stop wearing the face of my brother, then maybe we’ll talk!”

Shifty-Stanley paused. Then his face stretched out into a grin that split the skin around his lips. “Alright,” he said. His voice deepened. “We’ll both stop playing, then.”

Stanley’s skin melted off Shifty’s face.


	8. Chapter 8

“ _Run!_ ”

Ford raised his gun and shot Shifty in the chest before he had finished transforming. Shifty let out a roar and stumbled back, out of the exit.

Mabel stared at the space where Shifty had just been, frozen in the wake of his transformation. Stanley’s face—it had run down his head like wax, revealing a pasty white _something_ underneath. The eyes, embedded in that pale face—the pink, fleshy eyes—

Ford’s fingers were curling around hers. He was yanking her behind him. Her legs stumbled over themselves as they remembered how to function, and then she and Ford were out of the cave, back into the tunnels, running past an angry Shifty as Ford took another shot at him over his shoulder.

“We have to get back—to the bunker—”

Mabel nodded, too scared and out-of-breath to reply. The two Pines tore over the uneven, rocky ground through the damp tunnels. Mabel was certain that she would slip and fall and die any second, but Ford’s firm grip on her hand helped her keep her balance.

“ _You can’t get away from me, Stanford!_ ”

Shifty’s true voice, deep and rough, rang through the tunnels. Mabel tried to shut it out—tried to shut out the memory of those horrifying eyes—and focus on the ground in front of her.

And then Ford was laughing.

It startled Mabel so much she nearly lost her footing (again). “Wh-what?”

Ford just laughed louder. “I haven’t run like this in thirty years!”

Mabel didn’t think it was very funny.

“Wait.” Ford skidded to a stop. “Which way did we come from?”

In front of them was a fork in the path.

Mabel’s mouth went dry. “I-I don’t know!” She clung to Ford’s hand as a roar from Shifty reached them. “Pick one!”

Another bellow—but louder, screechy. Then a rumbling sound.

“He’s shifted into something more mobile,” Ford said. “Quick, this way. Turn off your flashlight!”

Mabel did as he said. He pulled her into the tunnel on the left and, after pushing her behind him, threw his own flashlight down the tunnel on the right. It clattered against the stone as it bounced down the shaft.

Ford pushed Mabel back against the rock wall just in time as Shifty came around the corner. He now looked like a giant brown roly-poly bug, uncurling long enough to look down the right tunnel before curling up again and rocketing after the flashlight.

Mabel let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Good thinking, Grunkle Ford.”

“Thank you. Let’s hope I picked the right path.”

He ran down the shaft. Great, more running. If Mabel wanted to be a monster hunter, she probably should start getting more fit.

“Mabel? I know you’re tired, but he’ll discover our trick any moment now. Stay with me.”

She took a deep breath and ran after her uncle.

 They ran side by side, this time in the dark, clinging to the other’s hand for dear life. Mabel thought she could see a faint light in the distance, and she focused on it, strained her eyes on it, praying that it was the way out of this—

_Slam!_

The light disappeared as Mabel ran into something at full speed. “ _Oof!_ ” She hit the rock floor, her elbow going tingly-numb as it bashed against the rock. She tried to ignore it as she leapt to her feet and turned her flashlight on. “Who’s there!”

“Mabel!”

Her vision cleared to see her twin standing in front of her. “Dipper!” Candy was next to him. “Thank goodness you guys are here, I thought maybe—wait.” She put her hand out in front of Ford. “What if they’re the shapeshifter?”

Dipper’s eyes widened. He turned to Candy, a joking tone entering his voice. "Maybe I  _am_ the shapeshifter! Quick, Candy, poke me or something!"

Candy socked Dipper in the arm.

"Ow," came Dipper's weak response.

“It’s them,” Mabel said in relief. She handed her grappling hook and flashlight to Ford and hugged her brother. “It’s a good thing you’re safe.”

“Yep, we’re okay,” Dipper said. “Are you? Is the shapeshifter after you?”

“We tricked him into going a different way. He’s trying to steal the Journal.”

“Quick, kids,” Ford said, “did you come from the observation room?”

Dipper gave him a sheepish smile. “Well. . . we came to rescue you. . . but we got lost.”

“Great. So now we’re all lost?” Mabel asked.

“Our deepest apologies,” Candy said sarcastically.

Ford gave Mabel back her grappling hook. “We’ll find our way out of here. Everyone be quiet and listen for Shifty.”

“Shifty? The shapeshifter? What does he sound like?” Dipper asked.

Mabel and Ford exchanged a glance. “Like anything,” Ford said. “Come on. I have a plan, but only if we can get out of this maze.”

With those encouraging words, their small group set off in subdued silence.

~~~~~

It took Gideon a long time to admit it to himself, but he was lost.

He had long given up on being invisible and instead used his amulet as a flashlight. The blue glow was comforting at first, but comfort quickly gave way to frustration as the light revealed nothing but rock, rock, and more rock.

Why hadn’t he followed the Pines? When that door had opened, he had slipped through immediately, thinking to find the Journal before they did. Now he was lost, with no idea where they were, no idea if they already had the Journal and left and abandoned him down here in these never-ending tunnels. . .

 _Nope. You are_ not _going to panic. You’re not claustrophobic, you have magical powers, you’re_ fine.

Fine, but lost.

A frustrated growl escaped his throat, and he pounded the rock wall with his fist. The skin on his knuckles tore against the jagged stone. He growled again, this time at the injury.

The growl echoed.

Gideon paused. It hadn’t done that before.

And it was still going.

And it was getting closer.

Gideon’s body reacted before his mind completely understood. His amulet flared, and he moved into a defensive stance, ready to fight.

_Wait, no! You’re here on a stealth mission, Gideon Northwest!_

He corrected himself just in time, extinguishing his amulet and turning invisible. He pressed himself against the side of the tunnel as the noise got closer and closer. Now it didn’t sound like a growl so much as a rumble. It got closer and louder until it was right up next to him—

And then it stopped.

Gideon did his best to breathe silently as something else breathed on him. It was warm and moist and smelled rotten.

“I can _sense_ you,” said a low, grinding voice.

Definitely not the Pines, then.

There was a quick squishing noise. Something brushed against Gideon’s skin.

Feelers.

He endured them for about two seconds. Time to fight this thing.

Gideon shoved the feelers away and became visible, making his amulet light sudden and bright.

The thing recoiled. It looked like one of those strange moles with the feelers on their noses. But as Gideon watched, it collapsed in on itself with another squishing noise and expanded back out again, this time as a big white thing with a strange, circular mouth. It was even more disgusting than the mole creature.

“Get back,” Gideon said. “You don’t want to come up against me.”

The thing chuckled. “You must be the one Cipher told me about.”

“And you must be a shapeshifter. How do you know Cipher?”

“Oh, he only contacted me recently,” the shapeshifter said. “He’s the one who showed me what Stanford’s brother looks like as an old man. Would you like to see?”

Gideon’s stomach churned. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Time to regain control of the situation. “You live down here, yes?” Gideon asked.

“Trapped down here, more like.”

Gideon ran a finger over his amulet. “Do you know the location of the first Journal?”

The shapeshifter took a moment to answer. “What?”

“The first Journal. It’s down here somewhere. Where?”

The shapeshifter stared at him.

“Well? Where is it?” Gideon demanded.

“None of the Journals are down here,” the shapeshifter said. “Otherwise I would’ve been out of here a long time ago.”

Gideon’s eyes hardened. “ _What_.”

“When Stanford abandoned me down here, he took his Journals with him. Unless it’s in the bunker—”

“It’s not.”

“Then there’s no Journal down here.”

Gideon flared his amulet and took a threatening step towards the shapeshifter. “You’re lying,” he said, his voice low. “Bill told me it was down here.”

“Did he?”

Gideon paused, his conversation with Bill floating through his thoughts.

“ ** _Stanford_** _thinks the first **Journal** might be **down** in the bunker._”

_“After you **get** what you **came** for, I need you to **trap** the Pines **inside**.”_

Bill tricked him!

“No,” Gideon growled. “He never actually said the Journal was down here.” He hit the wall with a fist and swore under his breath. “ _Cipher!_ He only wanted to use me to get the Pines out of the picture. I’ll bet he knows where the first Journal is and doesn’t want me to have it.”

“Cipher told me to get the third Journal and help you trap the Pines,” the shapeshifter said.

“The Journal is mine!” Gideon clutched his amulet.

“You can take it,” the shapeshifter said, raising its pale, misshapen hands. “I just want a good look at all the creatures Stanford found. I can only shapeshift into what I see.”

Gideon shot the shapeshifter a guarded look. “Including me?”

“Yes, if I wanted to.”

_Note to self: Dispose of this creature before you leave._

“So, do you have a plan?” Gideon asked.

“I was just going to use brute force to get the Journal,” the shapeshifter said. “But with two of us, one can be a distraction.”

“I came down here invisibly,” Gideon said. “They can’t know I’m here. If you attack, I’ll steal the Journal. They won’t be able to get past the security room without it.”

The shapeshifter nodded. “Alright. Let’s get back to the lab, then. The Pines will end up there eventually, if they wander long enough.”

If nothing else, at least it knew its way around these tunnels.

“Lead the way,” Gideon said graciously.

The shapeshifter morphed back into the mole thing and started down the tunnel. Gideon followed, keeping his amulet on for light, watching the shapeshifter from behind.

He wasn’t sure if he was grateful for this ally. Bill had neglected to tell Gideon about the shapeshifter, which was worrying in itself. Did the shapeshifter have instructions to get rid of Gideon once they left the Pines?

Gideon set his jaw. This was going to be a very temporary alliance. He’d just have to be the one to make the first betrayal.

Luckily, he was good at that.


	9. Chapter 9

“I think I see it!”

Mabel nearly bumped into her brother as he stopped in his tracks, pointing at something ahead. “Is that a light?” he asked.

Ford switched off his flashlight, throwing their little group into darkness. Once Mabel’s eyes adjusted, she could see what Dipper was talking about. A faint light at the end of the tunnel winked at them.

Dipper and Candy cheered and started running for it. Mabel stayed next to Ford, who switched his flashlight back on and went at a slower pace.

“So what’s your plan, Grunkle Ford?” she asked.

“There are pipes littered throughout the shallower tunnels. They’re still working, as your brother discovered earlier. I want to find one and wait for the shapeshifter. Once he finds us, we’ll release the water from the pipes and let them hit him full on. Hopefully, he’ll shapeshift into something that can swim, something vulnerable. I’ll shoot the water with my stun gun, and it should knock him unconscious, or at least disable him for long enough to get him back into cryogenic stasis.”

Mabel frowned. “Cryogenic stasis?”

Ford nodded. “Those tubes back in the lab were created to cryogenically freeze subjects. After Shifty got out of hand and attacked Fiddleford, we froze him. That’s the last time I remember seeing Shifty. I don’t know how long he’s been awake, but not long enough to tunnel aboveground, fortunately.”

“Fiddleford,” Mabel said. “You mentioned him earlier. Who is he?”

“He’s F,” Ford said. “The assistant in my Journals.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “You remember him?” she asked excitedly.

“Shifty tipped me off when he called him ‘Fidds.’ His name was Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Fiddleford McGucket,” Mabel repeated, trying it out. “That’s a weird name.”

“He was a strange person. But a brilliant one. He and I were good friends. We worked together for a while before Stanley came and joined us.” Ford’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t seem like the type to steal my Journals. But something happened between us, something important . He’s not out of suspicion.”

“Where do you think he is now?”

“I have no idea.”

They had reached the end of the tunnel, and their next few steps carried them into the lab. The florescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows onto the rock. Mabel shut her eyes for a moment to give them time to adjust.

Dipper and Candy waited in the door between the bunker and the lab. “There you guys are,” Dipper said. “So now what?”

“Follow me,” Ford instructed.

He led them a few yards into another tunnel, over to a thick, rusty pipe that disappeared into the rock above. “We need to lure him here,” Ford said, putting a hand on a large wheel that jutted out of the side. “Then we can blast him with the water in this pipe and put an end to this.”

“He wants the third Journal,” Mabel said. “We could bait him with that.”

Ford frowned. “I don’t—”

“I’ll do it,” Candy said. “I’m fast.”

“Me too,” Dipper volunteered.

Ford hesitated a moment before pulling the Journal out of his pack and handing it to Dipper. “If Shifty gets this, or it gets damaged, you both are in huge trouble.”

“Message received.” Dipper gave Ford a casual salute.

“Go back out there and get his attention, then run back here. Make sure to get behind the pipe with Mabel and me.”

Dipper and Candy nodded before dashing away again.

Ford turned to Mabel. “Stay behind the pipe and keep your grappling hook ready. I’ll turn the wheel once Shifty is in position.” He extracted his stun gun from his pack. “Hold this for now.”

Mabel held it at arm’s length before gently setting it on the ground. Knowing her luck, she’d probably shoot Ford with it and doom them all.

Ford pushed at the wheel to loosen it up, but it made such a horrible screeching noise that he only did it once. Mabel sat on the ground, shifting on the rock.

And they waited.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said after a while, “once we stun Shifty, what are we going to do with him?”

Ford glanced at her, resting his hand on the wheel. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “At first I thought we should just refreeze him, but the cryogenic tubes might not even work. He somehow got unfrozen in the first place, after all.”

Mabel studied his face in the faint light that spilled into the tunnel from the lab. “You mean. . . you want to kill him?”

Ford sighed and looked away. “I don’t want to. Shifty was like. . . like a pet, in the old days. Even Lee liked him. But he’s too dangerous to leave unattended, and I don’t think I can contain him.”

“Unless the cryogenic tubes work.”

“We’ll try,” Ford promised. “And if it comes to it. . . Well, if you want to be a monster hunter, Mabel, sometimes you have to kill creatures that are trying to hurt you.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground. “I know.”

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Mabel traced the patterns in the rock with one hand and grasped her grappling hook in the other. Would she have the courage to attack Shifty with it if she had to?

A roar shook the air.

Mabel jumped to her feet, heart hammering in her chest. “He found them!”

“Stay behind me,” Ford said.

A few agonizing moments later, they heard tennis shoes slapping on the rocky floor. “ _Dipper, come on!_ ” Candy shouted in the distance.

They raced into view. Dipper had the clutched the Journal to his chest. “He’s right behind us!”

Candy reached them first, swinging around the pipe and coming to a stop by Mabel.

“Dipper, hurry!” Ford shouted as Shifty came into view. The shapeshifter looked like a giant frog now, with lumps of flesh that squelched as he moved.

Dipper tripped.

“Dipper!” Mabel screamed. She started to run for him, but Ford pushed her back with an arm before grabbing his gun and running after Dipper himself. Mabel crashed into Candy, losing sight of her brother. She got to her feet just in time to see Shifty grab the Journal with a long, sticky tongue.

“Give that back!” Ford bellowed, shooting at Shifty. The shot crackled on Shifty’s skin and dissipated, leaving no effect. Shifty laughed, the sound dancing around the Journal, still held by his tongue. Ford shot again, but to no avail.

The grappling hook suddenly felt heavier in Mabel’s hand, as if it were trying to get her attention. She looked from it to Ford to Shifty, her thoughts exploding into panic. She had to help—she couldn’t just stand here— _move, Mabel!_

She ran forward and shot her grappling hook at Shifty.

The hook speared straight through Shifty’s tongue and hit the rock wall. The Journal—as well as a good portion of the tongue—fell the ground as the hook recoiled back to the gun in Mabel’s hand.

Shifty bellowed, Ford ran forward to get the Journal, and Mabel just stood there, repulsed. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the severed tongue, discarded on the ground, leaking blood out onto the stone. . .

“Mabel, move!” Dipper shouted.

She snapped out of her trance to see Shifty, in his true form, staring at her with rage in his pink eyes.

 _Scrabdoodle,_ said her brain.

Shifty charged.

Mabel dove out of the way, once again falling on top of Candy. Ford shot at Shifty again, who bucked at the electricity this time, stopping and roaring in pain. The stun gun could affect him in this shape, then—but it wasn’t enough, because Shifty only paused for a moment before turning and going for Ford.

Ford shot again, but Shifty dodged and tackled Ford from the side, wrenching the Journal out of his grasp.

“ _No!_ ” Mabel wasn’t sure who shouted it—maybe it was all of them—but she, Candy, and Dipper all ran for Shifty and Ford. Mabel almost shot the grappling hook again, but she didn’t dare risk hitting Ford—hitting the tongue earlier had definitely been a lucky shot.

She’d almost reached them—she could see the Journal, clutched in Ford’s six-fingered hand—when something slammed into her from the side.

Everything disappeared in a sudden rush of murky green. It took Mabel a few aching seconds to realize she was wet—wet with water from the pipe, which was carrying her down the tunnel. Her entire body throbbed from the force of it, including her lungs. No, wait—her lungs were throbbing because she _couldn’t breathe._

She thrashed around in the water, but there was no escaping the rushing current that held her captive. Spots danced around oxygen-deprived eyes that strained against the dirty water. Her world turned sideways and upside-down and inside-out until she didn’t even know if she was still moving anymore.

Then she hit something solid, and everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

Gideon watched as the water swirled around the tunnels, carrying the Pines with it.

The blast had caught the shapeshifter too, but he didn’t much care. As long as he grabbed the Journal and got out of here before anyone could reorient themselves, everything would go perfectly.

As soon as the way was clear, Gideon left the pipe, grimacing at the orange rust that had rubbed off on his black gloves as he’d turned the wheel. The sooner he was out of this filthy place, the better.

He sidestepped past Stanford, Dipper, and Candy, who were coughing and spluttering in a heap on the floor. Neither the Journal nor the shapeshifter’s hulking form was anywhere to be seen.

His eyes raked the ground for the Journal as he turned the corner to return to the lab, the bright lights making him feel exposed despite his invisibility. He was still looking when he almost tripped over something.

What his eyes found wasn’t the Journal, but an orange lump on the ground.

Gideon’s heart leapt to his throat. It was Mabel. And she wasn’t moving.

He fell to his knees at her side, rolling her over to get the hair out of her face. Her hair was so thick! It felt like an eternity to get it out of the way so he could check if she was breathing.

Her chest wasn’t rising or falling, but when he bent over, he thought he could feel a faint breath on his cheek. Was he just imagining it? Was she—?

He activated his amulet, trying to check her for thoughts or any kind of brain activity. His hands flickered into view, and he jumped before realizing that he had turned visible. Of course. He couldn’t do two things at once.

A part of him screamed at the rest of him to stop panicking, to get ahold of himself, but it was too small to have any effect. Which was why he spent a few seconds thinking Mabel was brain-dead before remembering that he couldn’t read her mind.

“Mabel,” he said, shaking her shoulders gently—or maybe not so gently. “Mabel, get up. Breathe. Come on. Come on!”

This was his fault this was his fault he did this he turned on the water—

One of Mabel’s eyes opened.

Gideon breathed in sharply. “Mabel!”

“I’m not Mabel,” she hissed.

“Wh-what?”

“It’s me, Shifty. The shapeshifter?”

Gideon stared at her—it—for a moment before shoving it away. “What! What are you doing, pretending to be Mabel?”

“I thought her family would find me, not you!” Shifty-Mabel sat up, glaring at Gideon, whose panic was quickly giving way to anger.

“I can’t believe you would—”

“Kid,” Shifty-Mabel said suddenly.

“No, listen, if _I_ freaked out, imagine—”

“Kid, turn invisible. _Now_.”

“What?”

Shifty was looking over Gideon’s shoulder, and Gideon turned before he could stop himself.

Mabel—the real Mabel— was standing behind him, staring at him with wide eyes.

Gideon turned invisible and ran, dashing back to the entrance of the tunnel, but the damage had been done. How could he have been so _stupid!_

Across the room, the shapeshifter got to its feet. “Where’s the Journal, child?”

Mabel’s eyes locked on Shifty’s. “S-stop it,” she said. “Stop looking like me.”

“Does it unnerve you?” Shifty spoke in Mabel’s voice. Gideon didn’t like it. “Give me the Journal and I promise I’ll stop.”

“I-I don’t have it,” Mabel said. But her eyes glanced out to the side, betraying her lie. Gideon looked over to see the dull gleaming of the hand set on the Journal, shoved halfway behind a cryogenic tube.

Shifty-Mabel saw it too.

It snarled and dashed across the room. Mabel cried out and tried to get to the Journal too, but Shifty-Mabel was faster, and it snatched the Journal out from under Mabel.

Mabel tackled herself.

There was a flurry of orange and brown as the two Mabels fought over the Journal. Gideon was strongly reminded of the time he helped Mabel fight her clones. Except this time, the clone was a shapeshifter out for blood.

Gideon couldn’t tell which Mabel was which, but he could guess that the one losing terribly was the real Mabel. The panic on her face couldn’t be faked.

The panic on her face.

Something switched on inside Gideon, and he set his jaw. Mabel had already seen him—he wasn’t going to let Shifty hurt her.

He rushed for them, turning visible right before his fist connected with Shifty-Mabel’s face. He’d better be right.

Shifty-Mabel howled. The sound was inhuman—so Gideon was right. “What are you doing?” Shifty bellowed in its own voice.

“Get away from her!” Gideon said, activating his amulet and lifting Shifty-Mabel into the air. He threw the shapeshifter across the room and watched it crash into the far wall. Once again, he was reminded of the clones. This time of the clone he had killed by impaling her on a stalactite.

He turned back to Mabel, whose eyes were wide and afraid. “G-Gideon—what are you—”

Gideon knelt down. “I don’t have time to explain.”

“H-how—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. He braced himself for the surprise in her gaze to give way to hatred, the way it had last time she had seen him.

The hatred didn’t come.

The relief that swept through him was much stronger than he would have imagined.

Gideon reached out and grabbed Mabel’s hand tightly in both of his. “I’m betraying someone right now,” he said. “To save you. I hope this can begin to make up for what I’ve done.”

She stared at him.

He glanced at the Journal, and she did too. How close it was, how easily he could grab it and run away, just like last time. . .

Just like last time.

He took a deep breath and picked up the Journal. Mabel visibly flinched.

No. Not again. He couldn’t do that to her again.

Gideon handed it to her.

Her stare widened even further. She took it from him, but he kept one of her hands in his.

His eyes traced the golden six-fingered hand for a moment before he forced his gaze away from the Journal and back to her.

“I. . . I’m sorry, Mabel,” he said. “For everything.” 

He lifted her hand and kissed it gently.

She snatched it away. But when he looked up at her, there was no anger in her eyes, only shock. It was just reflex.

He let go of her hand and stood up. “I hope you can forgive me someday,” he said softly.

Then he slipped away.

He waited until he had gone around a corner before turning invisible. No need for Mabel to know how he got down here.

Once he was sure he couldn’t be seen, he crept back to the lab to watch.

“Mabel!”

There was Dipper. He came racing into the lab, Candy and Ford behind him.

“D-Dipper!” Mabel didn’t get up, just reached out for her brother. “Shifty—he’s over there—I think he’s unconscious—Ford, you gotta use the stun gun while he’s still in that form!”

Dipper looked over at Shifty, then back at Mabel. His eyes narrowed. “How do we know you’re not the shapeshifter, and that’s not the real Mabel over there?”

“You had your first kiss with a selkie named Amanda,” Mabel gasped.

Dipper smiled in relief. “I knew it was you. I just wanted to be sure.”

A moan sounded from across the room. Shifty-Mabel twitched.

Ford whirled around and shot the stun gun, but Shifty-Mabel was too fast. It rolled away from the blast, jumping to its feet and snarling at the Pines.

“Not again,” Gideon heard Mabel whisper.

Candy stepped forward. “That’s it.” She rolled up her sleeves. “It’s time to do this my way.”

She rushed at Shifty.

Shifty-Mabel turned just in time to see her. Its face went blurry as it started to change shape.

Candy slammed into it, knocking it back down to the floor. Gideon lost sight of the shapeshifter for a moment, but soon Candy was thrown back to reveal its new form.

The shapeshifter had become Candy.

Shifty laughed, its guttural voice unnatural in Candy’s throat. It dodged another shot from Stanford. “I wouldn’t do that,” it said. Its voice became higher and higher as it spoke, until it sounded just like Candy’s. “You wouldn’t want to hurt the real Candy, would you?”

The real Candy, who had been running for Shifty, skidded to a stop as she seemed to realize what this meant. But it was too late. Shifty-Candy turned and grabbed Candy’s upper arms, turning her and shoving her into the wall. Candy’s head hit the stone with a sickening _thud_ , and she didn’t move for a moment.

“Candy!” Dipper yelled. He was across the room, kneeling next to Mabel, in no position to help.

Candy’s eyes stopped swimming and bored into Shifty-Candy with rage. Then she tackled Shifty-Candy to the ground.

The two Candys tumbled over the ground, latched onto each other, until Gideon had no idea which Candy was which. Which was Shifty’s plan, of course.

Dipper got up to help, but Ford shouted him down. “I have to get a clear shot!”

“You’ll hit her!” Dipper shouted back.

Stanford growled in frustration. “Candy, get out of the way!”

“I’m trying!” Both Candys yelled it together.

Ford aimed his stun gun into the brawl, then helplessly put it down. Gideon frowned. Even if he made the shot, what then? Would they freeze Shifty again? How long until the cryogenic tube failed and the shapeshifter got out again?

A reminder went off in his brain. _Note to self: Dispose of this creature before you leave._

Gideon’s eyes roamed the room until he saw Ford’s pack, discarded on the floor. He started towards it.

He knew how to stop this.

_You’d better have a real gun in there, Stanford._


	11. Chapter 11

This mission was sand, slipping through Dipper’s fingers.

Mabel was sitting with her back against a nearby cryogenic tube, a vacant look in her eyes that meant her brain was going haywire. Grunkle Ford was pointing a gun at Dipper’s friends and a shapeshifter that looked like Dipper’s friend, and Dipper’s friend was, well, fighting a shapeshifter that looked just like her.

And Dipper was just standing there, wondering how everything went so wrong.

Every time the first Candy kicked the second one in the chest, every time the second Candy pulled the first’s hair, Dipper winced. Candy fought dirty, and the shapeshifter matched that.

He had no idea which Candy was his friend and which was the shapeshifter, but if he didn’t put a stop to this soon, he was afraid that Ford would give up and just shoot both of them. Stun gun or no, Dipper couldn’t risk that.

One Candy threw the other off of her, and she landed on her feet, skidding back on the stone floor. The first Candy rushed her, but the second Candy moved out of the way, catching the first Candy by the arm and twisting it before kicking her back. The first Candy hit Ford from the side, knocking him to the ground.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper started forward.

Someone grabbed the hem of his shirt.

He looked back. Mabel’s knuckles were white where she clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t,” she said, her voice thin. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But—”

“Please,” she whispered. “Protect the Journal. Protect me.”

His eyes flicked from her to the Journal in her lap to the fight in the distance. “Okay,” he said, crouching down next to her.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“What happened between you and Shifty earlier? What’s wrong?”

He listened to the sounds of Candy and Shifty-Candy fighting and yelling as he waited for her to answer.

“I. . .” She hesitated. “I almost lost the Journal. Again. I just don’t want anything to happen.”

She glanced over Dipper’s shoulder. He turned, but nothing was there. Nothing but the opening to a one of the tunnels.

“Did you see something?”

“N-no.”

“Dipper! Mabel! Move!”

It was Candy—or maybe Shifty-Candy. Either way, Dipper just barely pulled Mabel to her feet and got out of the way before one of the Candys flew into the cryogenic tube they’d just been in front of. The glass cracked.

Dipper rushed over to the Candy that had just hit the glass, ignoring Mabel’s protests. He grabbed her by the arms. “Quick! Are you the real Candy? Say something to prove it!”

Candy looked wildly from him to Mabel. “I—Mabel and I hate each other!” she blurted.

Dipper turned to check. Mabel looked confused and slowly shook her head.

“Dipper!”

The other Candy came up from behind him and helped him hold the first Candy back. “I’m the real Candy!” she said.

“How do I know?”

The first Candy thrashed against their grip.

“I—”

The first Candy tried to knee Dipper in the groin. He moved so that she hit him in the thigh instead, but it still hurt. “What?” he demanded of the second Candy.

“I have a huge crush on you!” she blurted.

There was a split second of silence.

“That’s her!” Mabel shouted. “That’s the real Candy!”

Dipper grinned at her. “Ha! I knew it!” He released Shifty-Candy and grabbed the real Candy, pulling her to the side. Shifty-Candy shot forward, stumbling in the wake of its momentum.

“Ford! That’s Shifty!” Dipper yelled, pointing to Shifty with one hand while holding onto Candy with the other. He wasn’t letting her fight Shifty again.

Shifty leapt to its feet and growled, running for Dipper and Candy.

_BANG!_

The sound washed over Dipper like a shock wave. It felt like it physically knocked him over, but maybe he just lost his balance. Either way, he ended up on the ground with Candy’s arm pinned beneath him and his ears ringing.

It took him a moment to pick himself up. Candy got up next to him and said something. “What?” he shouted back. He couldn’t hear anything. He was right next to her and he couldn’t hear anything. Just this incessant ringing.

Someone gripped his arm. He turned. Mabel again. She looked fuzzy. She was trying to talk to him too, but he still couldn’t hear her. “I can’t hear!” he yelled. But even his own voice died away in his ears. His vision swam.

Then, slowly, the ringing died. His vision cleared. He could see Mabel looking over his shoulder.

He could hear Mabel scream.

He whirled around to see what she was looking at. There was Ford, leaning against the wall, his gun still in his hands. There was—

There was Shifty, now in his true form, staring down at the bullet hole in his chest.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Shifty stared down at his chest, then up at Dipper, Candy, and Mabel, then over at Ford.

Then he toppled over.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Ford dropped the gun on the stone floor, and the crack of metal against stone broke the spell. They all ran to Shifty.

Ford reached him first, dropping to his knees. “Shifty—no—I don’t—”

Dipper, Mabel, and Candy gathered around Shifty. Mabel gasped and turned away. Dipper couldn’t bring himself to do the same. He stared down at Shifty, stared at the pale green blood that spurted from its flayed white skin.

“G-Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said. “I thought you were using a stun gun!”

“I—I was—I thought I was—”

“You said you didn’t have a real gun!” Mabel shouted, her voice high and cracked.

“I—I brought it—just in case—but I swore I—I swore I was using the—”

“Stanford,” Shifty whispered.

They all fell silent.

“Even after all this time.” His words were punctuated by heavy breaths. “Even after you abandoned me for so long, I somehow thought you still cared for me.”

“Shifty, I—I didn’t meant to leave you. Something happened, I—I forgot about everything. You, Stanley, everything.” Ford’s voice was strained.

“I was going to leave you for dead,” Shifty said. He laughed. “But I guess you got me first.”

“No—I didn’t have the gun—you saw me, I had the stun gun, I have no idea how I ended up with that gun—”

“I have an idea of what happened,” Shifty said. “But it doesn’t matter. Do you still care about me?”

“Yes,” Ford said immediately. “I may have forgotten, but yes—yes, I’ve always cared about you.”

Shifty smiled faintly. “Good.” He moaned in pain. “But I have to tell you—I have to tell you something.”

Ford leaned in.

“You—you can’t keep searching for Stanley. I know what you’re trying to do, but—but it won’t work. It will only cause you more pain.”

“How do you know I’m looking for Stanley?” Ford demanded.

“Why else would you come back down here?” Shifty replied. His voice was getting softer and softer. “But—Stanford—please—stop this. Don’t keep looking. Or else—”

“I’m going to keep searching.”

Shifty shook his head frantically. “No—or else—or else you’ll end up—like this.”

His skin bubbled as he transformed one more time. Into a perfect copy of Grunkle Ford.

“No. No, Shifty, turn back, turn back right now—”

“No,” Shifty-Ford whispered. His blood had changed from light green to dark red. “No. You have to. . . stop this search. Please.”

“Shifty, turn back!” Ford shouted.

Shifty let out one last breath and fell still.

“No,” Ford breathed. “No, Shifty, no, stay with me—no—”

“Mabel, don’t look,” Dipper said. Or maybe he just let out a high-pitched moan. His eyes were locked on Ford—no, no, Shifty, it was Shifty that looked like Ford, it wasn’t actually his uncle, his uncle was alive right next to him, not dead on the floor with a bullet wound in his chest—

The pool of blood lapped against Dipper’s knee.

“Shifty—turn back—don’t die like this, don’t die looking like someone else—”

“Dipper.”

Candy’s voice pierced through the haze that clouded Dipper’s thoughts. He managed to pull his gaze up to hers.

“Let’s go back to the bunker,” she said. “Mabel’s already over there.”

Dipper looked over and saw Mabel hovering in the doorway between the lab and the bunker. He took a deep breath. “Okay.” He glanced to Ford and opened his mouth, but Candy shook her head. So instead they just slipped away.

The three of them passed into the bunker and let out a pent-up breath. Mabel slumped against a computer, looking like a deflated balloon. Watching her collapse reminded Dipper of his own shaky, weak legs, and he sat down on the dusty floor with a thump.

Candy sat down next to him and, after a moment, so did Mabel.

“Mabel, did you look?” Dipper asked in a hushed voice.

She swallowed. “No. Why?”

Dipper looked away.

“He turned into Mr. Pines,” Candy said. “Right before he died.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “S-so there’s—”

“A dead Grunkle Ford out there, yeah,” Dipper said.

“And we just left Ford out there?”

“I think he wants to be alone,” Candy said.

“Or maybe you just wanted to leave him alone,” Mabel shot back.

“Guys,” Dipper said. “Let’s just. . . talk about something else.”

“Like what?” Candy asked.

“I don’t know.” He glanced up at her. “Maybe your crush on me?”

“Dipper, someone is dead out there,” Mabel whispered.

“I know.” But he kept looking at Candy. He needed to think about something else, anything else.

“Okay, yeah,” Candy said. “I have a crush on you. I’ve been trying to tell you all day. But you said you already know?”

“I suspected,” Dipper said. “But you kept sending me mixed signals. One moment you’d be flirty, the next you’d be all aggressive.”

Candy turned pink. “That’s just my flirting style, I guess,” she mumbled.

He felt a million words press up against his lips, but he kept them back, waiting for her to continue the conversation on her own terms.

“But,” she finally said, “you don’t like me back. You’re in love with Amanda.”

“Amanda and I are just emailing,” Dipper replied. “But. . . you’re right. I don’t have feelings for you. And I know what it’s like to like someone that doesn’t like you back.”

“You do?” Mabel asked suddenly.

Dipper and Candy both looked at her.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“But I don’t mind you having a crush on me, if that helps. You’re a really great friend, and this won’t make things weird between us. At least it shouldn’t.”

Candy looked away. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You did good back there,” Dipper said. “You’re a great fighter. It really helped.”

“Did it? Shifty ended up dead.”

Mabel let in a sharp breath.

“What happened?” Dipper asked. “We all saw Ford shoot the stun gun  before Shifty turned into you. It definitely didn’t make that huge noise.”

“We ran into Ford while we were fighting,” Candy said. “He dropped the stun gun. I guess he just grabbed the wrong one.”

“But—Ford didn’t mean to do it,” Mabel said. “He couldn’t have.” Her voice shook. “He told me he wouldn’t bring a real gun.”

Dipper looked to his sister. Her legs were folded beneath her, her arms wrapped around the Journal, clutching it tightly to her chest. Her face was pale, her eyes still wide. Dipper figured he probably looked similar—the mental image of Shifty’s broken body— _Ford’s_ broken body—

“Dipper?”

The three of them looked up to see Ford standing in the doorway between the lab and the bunker. The bloodstains on his trenchcoat made it seem for a moment that he was the one who had been shot, that he’d risen from the dead. But it was the real Ford, the one who was alive the whole time.

“I know this is,” Ford swallowed, “a lot to ask, but. . . do you think you could help me carry Shifty out?”

They all stared at him. “You want to move him?” Mabel asked. “You want to take him out of the bunker?”

“Yes,” Ford said. “I want. . . I want him to be in the sun. He’s been down here for thirty years, and. . . I know he won’t actually see it or feel it, but. . . I want him to be in the sun again. I was thinking I could bury him where the third Journal was hidden.”

“You’d have to make the compartment bigger,” Mabel said.

“I dunno, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said. “I don’t really want to see him again. Why—why would he turn into you before he died?”

“A warning,” Ford said gruffly. “He doesn’t want me looking for Stanley.” His expression was distant. “Why, I don’t know. I still can’t think of how he knew we were looking.”

“I’ll do it,” Candy said.

They turned to her. “Do what?” Ford asked.

“Help you carry Shifty out.”

He blinked. “Oh. Yes. I don’t think you. . .”

“I’m strong,” Candy protested. “I can do it. I fought him, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Ford said. “Yes, you did well. I’m glad we brought you along.”

Dipper wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Candy smile slightly.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said.

“Hmm?”

“Grunkle Ford, are we. . . are we going to keep looking?”

There was a silence for a moment, one that Dipper could feel settling down on his shoulders like a fresh layer of dust.

“Yes,” Ford said. “I am. I can’t give up now,  even after what happened down here. But you don’t have to join me if you don’t have to.”

Mabel bit her lip. “Where else can we look?”

“We don’t have to look anywhere else, I think,” Ford said. He crossed into the observation room and pulled something off a shelf. That’s right, the laptop! “This should be everything we need, if I can get it working. We’ll go home, fix it up, and then we might not need the other Journals at all. But if we get any leads, I still want to follow them.”

“I guess,” Mabel said. “Yeah. Yeah, we can’t give up. Shifty must’ve just been trying to scare us, right? Nothing that bad will happen to any of us if we just keep looking for Stanley.” She fixed Ford with a pointed stare. “Especially if we stop bringing real guns.”

Ford held her gaze for a moment and then dropped it, nodding to the floor. Dipper could tell he was truly sorry.

“But we’ll keep going,” Dipper said. “Right? Mabes, if it was me you were trying to rescue, you wouldn’t let something like Shifty’s warning stop you, would you?”

“No,” Mabel said. “No, I wouldn’t.”

She stood up and walked over to Ford, putting a hand on his arm. “And now we’ve seen what Stanley looks like as an old man,” she said. “Or what he might look like. Now we have to find him, so we can know for sure.” She smiled up at Ford. “Right?”

He smiled back at her, then turned the smile to Dipper. “Right.”

Then he took a deep breath. “Alright. Dipper, you carry the laptop, and Mabel, keep the Journal. Candy, can you come help me?”

Candy nodded and got to her feet.

“Let’s go first,” Dipper said to Mabel. “So we don’t have to look.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

So when Ford and Candy returned with Shifty’s body carried between them, the twins didn’t turn around. They simply held hands, the laptop and the Journal cradled in their arms, and led the way out of the bunker.

Led the way back out to the sun.


	12. Chapter 12

Gideon fell asleep clutching the Journal to his chest.

He had trudged back to the mansion as the sun set, completely sapped of energy. Luckily, his father hadn’t intercepted him on his way up to his bedroom. He’d sent one of the servants out to buy him a black light, collapsed on his bed, opened the second Journal, stared at the page for a moment without reading a word, and then closed it again. A few minutes later he was unconscious.

Only to wake up again in a dream.

He was in a large room with brick floors and vaulted ceilings. Filtered sunlight streamed through window at the top of the room, lighting only the top half and leaving the bottom half of the room in shadow.

**“The magnitude of your failure surprises me.”**

Gideon turned around and was suddenly blinded by a bright yellow light. The entire back wall was shaped like a triangle with one eye.

The entire back wall was Bill.

Gideon faced the demon with his head high. “You misled me,” he said. “You let me believe the Journal was down there, and you neglected to tell me about the shapeshifter. There was nothing in it for me.”

“You **idiot** ,” Bill said. He looked like he was a part of the wall, and the eye that gazed down at Gideon was stationary. “I was **offering** you your **precious** **Journal**. And you just **walked away**.”

Gideon shook his head. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. You pride yourself on never lying, but we both know that no conversation with you is ever straightforward. You said our goals were aligned, but I doubt I even know what your goals are.”

Bill popped out of the wall and floated towards Gideon, becoming smaller and smaller as he got closer. “You’re a **tricky** **pawn** , I’ll give you **that**.” Now, his glow flickered with the rhythm of his speech like usual. “I figured I could **rely** on you, but even **demons** make **mistakes**.”

“I’m not your pawn,” Gideon growled. “I’m no one’s pawn, and today’s events should teach you that. I’ll only do something if it’s in my best interests, and your plans are not. I may be on your Wheel, but I’m a Lone Wolf.”

Bill peered at him in silence for a moment. “Oh. **Oh**. I **see**. You’re not upset about the **Journal**.”

“Get out of my head, Cipher.”

“You’re upset about the **girl**.”

“ _Get out of my head, Cipher_.”

“You saw her **dead body** down there, and it **upset** you. You’re starting to **care** for her.”

“I’m not going to play these games, Bill,” Gideon said. “Just know that whatever plans you have, I’m not going to be a part of them, not unless I decide it’s in my best interests. I may even oppose them, in some cases. Speaking of which.”

He stepped forward, staring Bill down. “Where’s Pacifica.”

Bill chuckled. “How **different** you are from **yesterday**. You seemed to want a **piece** of the **pie** , and now you’re content to **sit back** and let the Pines **reign**?”

“I no longer want to be involved in this. The only thing I need to know is the location of my friend. Tell me where Pacifica is.”

 “I **told** you, I’m **not** diverging that information.”

“Why not?” Gideon demanded.

“You said it **yourself** , kid. You might **oppose** me. And if we’re **enemies** now, the **last** thing I need is for you to have any more **information** than you already **have**.”

Gideon took a moment to take deep, steadying breaths. “Is she okay?”

“She’s **fine**. She’s **better** than she ever **has** been. And the **longer** you leave her **alone** , the **better** she’ll be.”

“The better _you’ll_ be, maybe.” Gideon glared at Bill. “This isn’t over, Cipher. I want you out of this dimension as much as the rest of the Order, but I won’t be your pawn. I play by my own rules.”

“ **Fine** by me. Bringing **you** in on the trip to the bunker was **merciful**  of me. **Shifty** could’ve been **successful** by **himself** if you hadn’t **sabotaged** him. You should be **grateful** to me for giving you the **chance**. But you **threw** that chance **away**.”

“I don’t want any chances from you.”

“ **Suit yourself**.” Bill started floating back to the wall and expanding again. “You can play these **games** of **autonomy** , **Lone Wolf**. But I **warn** you. If you **get** in my **way** , you’ll get the **same treatment** as **anyone** else. You **don’t** want to be on my **bad side**.”

“You don’t want to be on mine,” Gideon replied, staring Bill down.

Bill laughed. “You’re **adorable**.”

He merged once again with the wall, closing his eye as the light from his triangular form died away. Only the wall, with the huge, lifeless eye, remained.

Gideon stood there for a moment, still unsure of exactly what had happened. Were he and Bill enemies, now? Had Gideon allied himself with the Pines?

No. No, it didn’t matter. He was enemy to no one, ally to no one. He was the Lone Wolf.

The mental image of Mabel’s body, crumpled on the floor of the laboratory, sprang to his mind. He pushed it away.

He was the Lone Wolf. And he intended to stay that way.


End file.
